


MasterChef SPN

by Redring91



Category: MasterChef Australia (TV) RPF, Supernatural
Genre: Awesome Charlie Bradbury, BAMF Lucifer (Supernatural), Banter, Castiel Has a Crush on Dean Winchester, Catharsis, Competition, Competitive Castiel (Supernatural), Competitive Dean Winchester, Cooking, Cooking Lessons, Crowley Just Wants To Be Loved (Supernatural), Crying, Dean Winchester Has a Crush on Castiel, Dean Winchester and Food, Dessert & Sweets, Emotions, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Flirting, Food, Food Metaphors, Friendship, Gabriel Loves Candy (Supernatural), Gen, Good Cook Dean Winchester, Hugs, It's All About the Tenderness, M/M, Men Crying, Recipes, Sam Winchester Loves Health Food, Slow Build Castiel/Dean Winchester, Slow Burn, Supportive Castiel (Supernatural), Supportive Dean Winchester, Supportive Sam Winchester, Team Feels, Teamwork, This Slow Burn is like slow roasted meat, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, emotional tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:42:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23244208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redring91/pseuds/Redring91
Summary: MasterChef SPN gives home cooks a once in a lifetime opportunity to develop their skills, be mentored by the best chefs, and ultimately change their lives forever.*“Dean,” Cas calls, his voice low and urgent. “Taste this.” He holds the spoon out. Dean’s hands are busy, so he doesn’t think twice about leaning over to let Cas feed him. “How’s the texture?”“S’good, Cas,” Dean assures him, as he finally finishes prepping the last of his chicken breasts. He and Cas both take a moment to breathe, looking at each other. Cas’s apron is covered in smears of chocolate; it’s splatted up his arms too, and he’s even somehow managed to get some on his cheek.Dean reaches out and wipes it off with his thumb.Cas’s lip twitches. He tilts his head slightly, still holding Dean’s gaze. “Plenty still to do before clean down.” But he reaches up to fix the strap of Dean’s apron, smoothing it out so it lies flat against the back of his neck. Cas’s smile is as soft as warm butter, and Dean melts just as easily.
Relationships: Balthazar & Castiel (Supernatural), Balthazar & Gabriel (Supernatural), Benny Lafitte & Dean Winchester, Castiel & Crowley (Supernatural), Castiel & Gabriel (Supernatural), Castiel & Sam Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Crowley & Rowena MacLeod, Crowley (Supernatural) & Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Everyone & Everyone, Gabriel & Sam Winchester
Comments: 22
Kudos: 15





	1. You’ve got yourself a tough competitor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Helianthus21](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helianthus21/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the first round of auditions, applicants cook their signature dish for the judges. How many will be able to win an apron, securing their place in the Top 24?
> 
> One contestant will mark themselves a messenger for the divine power of sweets. Another, in a display of extraordinary courage, risks a risotto. And is there room in this competition for a pair of brothers?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -
> 
> The delightful Helianthus21 wanted Dean and Cas being each other’s biggest fans; I happened to be thinking about Destiel during a MasterChef Australia binge. The perfect ingredients for a lovely slow burn.
> 
> Fair warning: every chapter contains delicious food and may make you hungry.
> 
> -

-01-

*

_This is MasterChef SPN:_

From all over the country come ordinary people determined to change their lives. The best home cooks put it all on the line for a chance to live their food dream. They will be inspired by the greatest chefs, as they strive for culinary perfection. Their amazing journey will see them face challenges and pressure like never before, but these amateurs will battle through to deliver some of the most incredible dishes the judges have ever seen. Lives will be transformed, and one phenomenal cook will excel beyond all others to become SPN’s next MasterChef.

*

-

The warehouse is bright, with pallets of fresh produce on display, and spacious enough not to feel crowded despite the large gathering of people inside. Dean sits on one of the lowered pallets beside Sam. Jess is on Sam’s other side, her hands curled around one of his. When Dean starts tapping his foot, Mary squeezes his shoulder in a show of support.

“Nervous?” Dean asks his brother.

“Yeah,” Sam laughs. “A little.”

Dean grins. “You and me, all the way to finals week, Sammy.” But as he looks around the rest of the room, he’s a little intimidated by all the other potential competitors.

A man in a dark suit is reciting a list of ingredients and alcoholic beverages under his breath. Near him stands a kid who looks barely old enough to drink any alcohol, and another man who introduces himself as Adam – the two of them get into a discussion about cakes.

Closer to Dean is a woman with red hair, suggesting the audition’s akin to a mission. The man she’s addressing rakes his fingers through his dark hair, tousling it even further. “Your faith is appreciated, Anna.” Dean’s gaze lingers on him. The trenchcoat isn’t a bad look.

A slow hush settles across the room in anticipation of the three judges arriving. And as Chuck, Becky, and Kali emerge from the corridor, everyone erupts into cheers and applause.

“Welcome everybody, to MasterChef SPN!” Chuck shouts over the noise. He waits for the din to settle back down again before he continues speaking. “We are very excited!” He beams. “Every year, we look for best home cooks this country has to offer. And every year, the food you guys deliver keeps getting better and better.”

“We can’t wait to see what you all have in store for us today.” Becky lets her gaze wander across everyone gathered. “But first, just take a moment, and consider this: one of you, in this very room, will become the next MasterChef.”

Kali’s reminder is layered with heady promise. “Winning themselves a quarter of a million dollars to help them towards achieving their food dream.” This earns another round of applause.

“But in order to do that,” Becky continues, “you need to get yourselves one of these.” She lets the white apron she’s holding unfurl to full length. “This is your ticket into the competition. Get one of these aprons and you’ll be in this year’s Top 24. And believe me, the MasterChef experience will change your life forever.”

Kali smooths a hand down her dress, then gestures to the apron, a slow and deliberate motion for emphasis. “In previous years, there’s been a limit on how many aprons we hand out in round one. But not this year. Cook well enough today, and an apron shall be yours.”

Dean nudges Sam. “Dude. That’s awesome.” Sam nods in agreement. This certainly improves both their chances.

Chuck goes on to explain the rules. “You’ll have one hour to cook us your signature dish. Impress us, earn three yeses, and you’ll win an apron. If your dish doesn’t meet the standard for the competition, and you receive three no’s, then I’m sorry, you’ll be going home.” He pauses a moment, to let that sombre reality sink in. Then his tone turns upbeat again. “But if we see something in your dish, or you, and believe you’ve got more to show us; then you’ll get another chance to cook, in round two.”

“So, do the very best you can!” Becky exclaims. “Now, the important question: who wants to go first?”

Several hands go up, scattered around the room, with varying levels of readiness. Sam raises his a little nervously. Dean nudges him again, and Jess squeezes his other hand, smiling.

“Hmm.” Kali points to a short man standing a few feet from Sam, whose hand is stretched all the way above his head. “You seem raring to go. What’s your name?”

“Gabriel.”

Chuck claps his hands together. “Okay, Gabriel. We’ll see you in the tasting room very soon.”

More applause fills the room. The judges head back down the corridor. Gabriel heads for the nearest cooking station with his bags.

“And it begins,” Dean tells his brother.

-

Chuck’s waiting by the bench as Gabriel enters the judge’s tasting room. “First contestant up! How are you feeling?”

“Excited. Nervous.” Gabriel can’t stop grinning as he slowly approaches with his trolley. Kali and Becky are still seated at the dais. He tosses them a wink. “I’m not usually this slow.” They both smile in response.

“Take your time,” Chuck reassures him. “So, what do you do, Gabriel?”

“Been mopping floors at Crawford Hall for six years now,” he replies easily.

It’s gratifying to watch Chuck’s expression turn from politely curious to curiously impressed, as the man gets a look at Gabriel’s dish. “Oh my god. What is that?” As Gabriel draws up to the bench, Chuck beckons the other judges. “Ladies, come and have a look at this!”

He transfers his plate from the trolley to the bench. “This!” Gabriel pronounces, with as much dramatic flair as he can muster – which is a lot. “Is the Golden Sphere.” He’s super proud of his efforts: the tempered chocolate sphere, coated in gold dust, is as striking as he’d hoped. He lists off the other elements; mascarpone mousse; caramelised white chocolate; fresh raspberries.

“You’re not secretly an ancient pastry chef?” Kali jokes, impressed.

Gabriel laughs. “Nah. But that’s the dream. I love sweets.” He watches as they start to tuck into his dish and is immediately ecstatic at their open enjoyment. He starts to bounce on his heels when Chuck vocalises a choir of angels.

“Your chocolate work is outstanding,” Becky tells him. “And the mousse is so light, not too sweet. It truly is heavenly.”

“You’ve been really clever,” Chuck agrees with a nod. “And the tempering of the chocolate is spot on. It’s a big yes from me.”

Becky’s smile widens. “A massive yes, from me.”

“And an absolute yes, from me,” Kali adds.

“Yes!” Gabriel shouts, pumping his fists. His adrenaline is buzzing so much he can barely stand still long enough for Chuck to drape the apron over his head.

-

“I’m Pamela; I’m an optometrist.”

“Ooh, this snapper,” Becky sighs happily as her fork easily flakes the fish apart.

Kali snaps the crispy skin in half with a pleased smile.

“Yes!” Chuck taps his spoon against the edge of the bench. “Yes, yes, yes!” And Pamela dances a little in victory.

-

Kevin talks while the judges taste his food. “My mom worked a lot of long hours, to support our family. She’s always believed in me, my potential, and my dreams.” He startles at the sound of scraping cutlery.

Becky tilts the now empty plate. “What else is there to say?”

“You’re getting an apron,” Kali declares.

-

Missouri’s brought to tears when Kali returns, escorting Patience, who’s holding a white apron in her hands.

“I think it will mean so much more coming from her than us,” Kali remarks.

“I’m so proud of you, grandma,” Patience whispers as she dons Missouri with the apron.

-

“These are my Jamaican beef patties.” Uriel says, presenting them with confidence. “With a creamy coconut jerk dipping sauce.”

Chuck eats two, then uses his third for emphasis. “This right here, this is food that makes you weak at the knees.”

-

“And what’s your name?”

“Hael,” she answers. “I’m a surveyor. And I’ve made a profiterole dome for you today.”

Kali arches an eyebrow at the display but says nothing. Becky inspects the dish. “You’ve had some problems, I see.”

“A few,” Hael concedes. Her spirits plummet fast as the judges expose those problems. Her pastry is undercooked, the custard is runny, and the caramel sauce split.

“There are lots of little flaws in all the elements,” Becky sighs. “I’m going to have to say no.”

“No,” Kali concurs.

Hael looks to Chuck, eyes wide and pleading. “Come on, Chuck…”

“No, I’m sorry, it’s a no from me too,” he replies. “Thank you for trying.”

Hael shakes her head as she re-emerges from the corridor, two thumbs down to declare her result. Gloria gives a sorrowful gasp and races forward to embrace her.

“It’s disappointing, to be eliminated at this point,” Hael murmurs to her sister. “But at least I got this far.”

-

“It’s overwhipped,” Ava admits, struggling to hold back her tears.

Becky’s sympathetic. “Sometimes things go wrong. It’s just a pity it happened for you today.” She shakes her head. “It’s a no, I’m afraid.”

-

Kali purses her lips at the excess cinnamon spilt across the plate. “Was that intentional?”

“No,” Eliot laments.

“We can’t eat that.”

-

“Poached pear in red wine,” Cole announces.

The judges aren’t impressed. “It’s all very average,” Chuck says. “Plain. There’s nothing that excites me about it.”

-

“It just shows you how far this competition has come,” Becky reflects. “With how high the standard has risen for these cooks.”

Chuck agrees. “Let’s get the next dish in.”

-

The crowd around him chants as Crowley’s time winds down. “…Five, four, three, two, one!” Then they cheer. The show of support puts a spring in his step as he heads to the tasting room.

“Welcome,” Kali greets him. “Your name?”

“Crowley.”

“And you’re a sales manager?”

“That’s right.”

Kali surveys him. It’s a look he’s grown used to – the attempted mapping of similarities between him and another. “I understand your mother works in the industry.”

“Yes. Quite an accomplished chef, truth be told.” Crowley sighs. “But she’s none too supportive of my decision to pursue my food dream. She’d rather I stay in sales. Refused to ever let me in the kitchen at home.” Prior experience in a professional kitchen would’ve excluded his application, naturally.

“Family can be difficult that way,” Kali acknowledges.

“But it’s my life, and I’m ready. I’ll work as hard as I have to; do whatever I need to do.” Crowley draws himself up to full height. “And if I get an apron? I’ll make you damn proud.”

Becky smiles. “What’s your dish?”

“Sticky date pudding, with a cinnamon crumb, brown sugar meringue, and mascarpone cream.” He indicates the small serving jug beside the plate. “Finished with a salted bourbon butterscotch sauce.” And as Crowley watches the judges devour his dish, vocalising their pleasure, he thinks smug thoughts in the direction of his dear mother.

Chuck starts pouring the sauce straight onto his spoon. “I’m going to eat all of this. Just so you know.”

“You’re welcome to.” A grin starts unfurling across Crowley’s face. Hopefully, he asks, “yes?”

Becky nods enthusiastically. “Yes.”

“Yes,” Kali agrees.

Chuck turns the serving jug near upside down, letting the last thin ribbon of sauce dribble down onto his spoon. “Oh, yes.” He licks it clean with relish.

When Crowley reappears before the crowd, he hoists the apron above his head like a trophy, and the cheering begins anew.

-

“You’re making dumplings?” Mary asks curiously. She’s never been one for cooking, but Sam appreciates she’s come along today to support him and Dean.

He nods and starts spooning his mixture onto the wonton wrappers. “I’m really pushing it, to get them done in an hour, but it’ll be worth it if I can pull it off.”

“They’ll taste amazing, babe,” Jess says encouragingly. “They always do.”

Dean sidles closer to Sam’s station. “This brings back memories, huh?”

Sam grins. His love of food comes from Dean; he always used to trail his brother around the kitchen, ‘helping’ him, until he was old enough for their dad to trust him enough to actually help out. He and Dean have always been close, even though they’ve not lived in the same place since Sam left for Stanford. Food, and applying to MasterChef, has now bought them back together.

“Nearly time, Sammy. Mind your stock.”

Sam laughs as he checks on it. “I love you man, but sometimes you stress me out.”

Dean rolls his eyes, but he’s still grinning and steals a spoon from the bench. “Let me taste.” From long experience, Sam can tell the swooning reaction is about sixty percent genuine, forty percent Dean being purposely dramatic. “That’s good stuff.”

“Well as long as big brother approves.” Sam demands Dean give him frequent time updates as he moves into the last five minutes and starts scrambling to plate up. He gets a hug from their mom, a kiss from Jess, and some final words of advice from Dean.

“Now go in there, blow them away, and run back out here with your apron.”

Sam’s really proud of what’s he managed to achieve. “Mushroom and vegetable dumplings with broth.” Kali and Becky survey his dish, then exchange a meaningful glance.

“So, Sam.” Chuck says. “Full ride at Stanford; a promising career as a lawyer. It’s a big change, stepping away from that and into food. Are you prepared for what a decision like this would mean?”

“I am. Food is, and has always been, my passion.” Even between lessons all he used to think about was food. It was while he was at Stanford his food dream really took shape – the fact he’s here at this audition is a promise to himself to commit to having his library café, where students can enjoy good food while they do their research. “It’s everything to me. Cooking is what I want to do, it’s what I what my future to be.” For him and, hopefully, to share with Jess.

And as they taste his food, he hopes all these risks will pay off for him today.

Chuck’s cutlery makes a resounding clink as he sets it down. “You came in here to serve us great food.” A grin unfurls across his face. “And boom. Job done.”

“In just one hour, you put together something truly special,” Kali tells him. “I can only imagine what you’re going to accomplish in this competition.”

Becky claps her hands together, beaming. “And boom!”

When Sam runs out, wearing his white apron, his family start yelling. Dean reaches him first, enveloping him in a bear hug. Jess has to peel them apart so she can wrap herself around him instead, kissing him deeply. Mary ruffles his hair and pats his arm. Sam cannot stop smiling.

-

“This is scallop tortellini, with verjuice and citrus sauce.”

The judges tuck in. “Oh, perfectly cooked pasta,” Chuck comments approvingly.

Samandriel beams, nodding. “I’m pretty happy with how it turned out.” And then he bursts into tears when he’s handed an apron.

-

“I’m Madison.” She displays her plate. “The dish is a water buffalo rump steak.”

Becky’s impressed. “Wow.”

“Over five thousand dishes on MasterChef. We’ve never seen water buffalo.” Kali remarks. “And judging by this dish, that’s a travesty. I’m a definite yes.”

The other two judges agree, and Madison doubles over with excitement.

-

“This is my deconstructed tiramisu,” Bela announces as she carefully applies the finishing touches.

“The plating is extremely elegant,” Kali observes. “And you’ve really championed the coffee flavours.”

“Welcome to the competition,” Becky says as she bestows Bela an apron.

-

Chuck tilts one of the artichokes, admiring it from all angles. “These have all been prepared beautifully.”

“Perfection from bud to blossom: always the best policy,” Aaron recites, smiling proudly. He’s confident his grandfather’s recipe for Roman-Jewish fried artichokes will earn him an apron – and whoops with joy when he’s proven right.

-

Chuck turns to the other two judges. “I am loving the food that’s coming through.”

“The quality has been incredible,” Kali agrees. “I wouldn’t be surprised if we end up giving away more aprons this year during this stage than we ever have before.”

-

Mick comes sprinting out of the corridor, yelling for Timothy, swinging the rolled apron above his head. His friend gives a triumphant shout, seizing him and thumping his back triumphantly.

“A lot of aprons have gone out already.” Garth chuckles nervously as he takes his casserole from the oven. “Let’s hope there’s still one for me.”

“I believe in you, honey.” Bess leans around the pram to kiss his cheek. He waves to the twins and collects a final hug for extra luck from Gertie before he makes the trek with his trolley.

“How are you?”

“Brilliant!” His animated response earns him smiles. Kali prompts him to introduce himself. “Garth. I’m a dentist, from Warsaw, Missouri.” He presents his dish to the judges. “I’ve made a breakfast casserole.” He knows it’s not as fancy looking as some of the other dishes he’s seen come through, but he hopes it’s enough.

“Smells good.” Chuck starts examining it with his fork. “While we get stuck into this, tell us more about it; why you chose this dish.”

Garth’s happy to talk. “Usual potato, cheese, and egg mix. Uh, with sausage, bacon, capsicum, tomato, mushroom, and peppers. It’s my wife’s favourite. And my daughter Gertie, when she started taking an interest in cooking, it was the first thing we made together. Food plays such an important role in our family. I want to have a little countryside, family-run, Bed & Breakfast. Bess loves hosting people, and it’s something for the kids too, as they get older. And I’d be in the kitchen, producing good, simple food.” He gestures at his casserole, which the judges have finished tasting at this point.

“It’s a simple dish.” Chuck agrees. “Good flavours though.”

Kali hums. “In cases like this, I ask myself: would I order this again, or try something else?” She taps one of her nails against the edge of his plate. “And I wonder what else you have to offer.”

Garth’s heart starts racing even faster than before. He can’t bear to think this is where his journey ends, before it’s even started.

“We’ve always said this competition is about great cooking.” Becky muses. “It’s also about great people. And I feel good, talking to you about food. So, I want to see you cook again.”

“Oh, thank you!” Relief crashes down on him, and he shakes their hands with fierce enthusiasm. “I won’t let you down!”

“Bring your a-game!” Chuck calls after him as he leaves the room.

Bess’s expression falters when he emerges without an apron, but he beams at her and crows, “second chance!” She brightens. He pulls both his girls into a group hug, before leaning down to kiss his boys on the forehead. “They just loved my food so much, they wanted to sample more of it,” he jokes.

-

“I’m Meg, from Cheboygan Michigan.” She’s not one for praying, but she’s desperately hoping her flavours are good enough. “I’ve made mixed mini strudel; ham and cheese; and prosciutto and asparagus.”

The lack-lustre presentation doesn’t go unnoticed by the judges. “It hasn’t entirely worked out for you.” Becky peels apart the pastry to inspect the filling. “But there’s potential here. You’re a cook again.”

-

“The caramel’s a tad runnier than I was hoping for,” Ed confesses.

“It’s a bit of a mess,” Becky acknowledges. “But not a total disaster.”

Chuck agrees, telling Ed he’ll get to cook again.

-

Ruby dresses her dish with sauce. “Organic eye fillet with seasonal vegetables, with a red wine jus.”

“You’ve shown good technique, but it’s out of balance,” Chuck declares. “I really want to see you cook again.”

-

Harry tries not to wince as he’s given feedback – “too salty, and it’s not vibrant enough” – but he’s relieved to be given a second chance.

-

“I’m a manager, at a Gas-N-Sip,” Nora tells them.

“Presentation wise, it captures your attention,” Becky notes.

Kali carefully wobbles the plate, observing the motion of the panna cotta. “While there could’ve been some improvement, I believe taking the panna cotta out of the mould shows the skill of the cook. You’ll be cooking again.”

-

“Putting up a soufflé for an audition dish is very brave,” Kali informs Adam.

“I figured if I could do it, it may lend credence to how good a cook I can be.” He tries not to fidget as Chuck deems it slightly overcooked and needing a tad more raspberry. He crosses his fingers behind his back.

Kali considers him. “On sheer courage alone, I’d like you to cook again.”

-

“I believe in you, my sweet,” Andrea murmurs before he departs for the tasting room.

“And what’s your name?”

“Benny.”

Becky drifts towards him. “Oh, that smells in-cre-di-ble. Crawfish boil?”

He answers affirmatively. He’s used a more modern style to display the colourful heaps, scaling them down from what he usually serves at larger gatherings. But the components are all the same: potatoes, fresh corn, and andouille sausage, served with the crawfish; plenty of herbs and spices too, of course.

“I do so love Cajun cooking.” Becky makes a happy noise as she samples the food. “Oh, you’d be delighted to sit in a restaurant and be served this.”

Kali praises his preparation and cooking of the crawfish. “You’ve a great respect for seafood; it really shows.”

Benny’s lived on Prentiss Island his whole life, always on or around the sea every day. Seafood’s as commonplace to his existence as his own blood, his bones, his breath. “I work as a marine guide.” He tells them about his dream to have a seaside café, serving up his favourite Cajun recipes. “My fiancé is a hundred percent supportive of me. So much so, she’s willing to postpone our wedding if I make it into the competition.”

“Well, consider this an early present for you both then,” Chuck says cheerfully as he holds out an apron. “You’re in the Top 24.”

Benny’s elated, shakes all their hands in both of his. “Let the good times roll.”

-

Dean’s about two-thirds of the way through his cook time when the handsome trenchcoat wearer starts his prep at the station next to his. Dean fumbles a little with his equipment as he tries to hide his momentary distraction. Sam snorts knowingly, but mercifully doesn’t comment.

“Give it up for Cas!” Anna leads the cheer, before nudging her companion. “What do you think, Benjamin?”

Benjamin smiles. “You’ll do great, Castiel.”

Dean’s suddenly very grateful he has to check his lamb, because the grin Cas gives his friend makes Dean a little weak in the knees.

Sam peers at his bench. “How’s it looking, Dean?”

“Really good.” He’s feeling good about his chances too. “Two aprons in the family would be awesome.” And to share this experience with Sam would mean a lot to him.

“Ooh, nice,” Gabriel comments from where he’s watching. “Honey!” He approaches Cas’s bench, inspecting the jar. “Sourced straight from the hive?”

“Early this morning,” Cas confirms as he slides his tray of pumpkin pieces into the oven. Dean figures he’s going to drizzle the honey onto them once they’ve cooked a little; but doesn’t have time to wonder what Cas is making. Dean needs to finish pulling together his own dish now.

Everything’s looking very tasty. He manages to get all his components plated and on his trolley before the surrounding crowd finishes the countdown.

Sam grins, leaning forward to hug him. “Now _you_ go and win that apron.” Both Jess and Mary echo the sentiment.

Dean’s surprised when Cas turns his head, attention shifting from his pan to Dean. “Good luck,” he offers, smiling. “I’m sure you’ll do well.”

“Thanks,” He replies, beaming. “You too.”

Dean’s a little star-struck by the judges. He can’t believe they’re going to eat his food. Chuck asks who he’s here with. “My family.” Dean sets his dish on the bench. “Including, uh, my brother, who’s actually already gotten an apron.”

“What?” Becky gives a small, surprised laugh. “Seriously?”

Dean laughs too. “Yeah. Sam.”

“Oh, yeah, the vegetable dumplings, in broth,” Chuck recalls. “Wow.”

“Who’s the better cook?” Becky asks slyly.

Dean summons enough bravado to smirk. “I’m going to say I’m better.” This earns chuckles from the judges. He clears his throat. “I’ve cooked a roasted lamb rack, with parsley and red quinoa.”

The judges taste in silence, their expressions carefully neutral so as to not give anything away. The anticipation’s killing Dean.

“I’m not going to say anything just yet,” Kali announces. And then she strides around the bench and heads down the corridor.

Dean braces himself against the bench. “Oh, man.” Amusement flickers briefly across Becky’s expression, but she and Chuck are otherwise composed as they all wait.

When Kali returns, she brings Sam, Mary, and Jess with her. Dean’s adrenaline levels have never been this high in his life. His family gathers around him and he faces the judges.

“Dean.” Chuck taps his fork delicately to the side of the plate. “What you’ve put up today…is delicious. This meat is cooked to perfection, as good as any we’ve seen put up in this competition.”

It takes a moment for this to sink in. Dean makes a strangled noise and leans into Sam’s hug, suddenly breathless.

“This is one of the best dishes I’ve tasted in a Top 50 audition, ever,” Becky declares.

Two yeses. Dean looks to Kali.

She’s still wearing an impressive poker face. “We’re going to see you cook again.” She pauses. Dean’s barely started to process this bittersweet development when she finally smiles. “In the MasterChef kitchen. It’s a yes from me too.”

There are tears from all four of them. Becky hands Sam the apron to give to him. Dean scrubs at his face. The judges give them all a few minutes to calm down.

“Looks like you’ve got yourself a tough competitor, Sam,” Becky teases. “Now we asked your brother this; which of you is better?”

“We’ve got different skills, so we balance out,” Sam offers diplomatically, then smirks. “But I bet Dean lied: I’m _much_ better than him.”

“Oi.” Dean shoves him playfully. “You _wish_ you were better.” But he agrees; they’re both great cooks.

Chuck laughs. “A little sibling rivalry, certainly makes things interesting.”

-

Ellen presents the judges with her fish curry, crispy skin, and rice flat bread.

“Oh, yum.” Becky praises. “This is incredibly complex.”

Kali fishes a whole chilli pepper out of the bowl. “Beautiful.”

“Worth sweating for,” Chuck declares.

When Ellen comes back out wearing a white apron, Jo screams, jumping up and down until her mom’s close enough to hug.

-

Zachariah makes no secret of how badly he wants an apron. “Senior VP in sales, I usually do everything I can to get what I want.”

“What more do you think you could’ve done?” Chuck asks.

“A little more pepper is all it needs.”

Kali pulls out a pepper grinder, cracks it a few times over the dish. Tastes it. Then hands Zachariah the pepper grinder, along with an apron.

-

“These look amazing!”

Ash grins at Becky. “Sarsaparilla braised chicken tacos. With a corn and avocado salsa, slaw, and mayo.” He’s been very generous with the amount of filling.

Kali’s unphased, merely smirks slyly. “I can unhinge my jaw like a python.”

“I love them!” Chuck declares.

“I love you!” Ash replies, clutching at the apron he’s given.

-

“Lovely to meet you,” Chuck says. “And can I say, that looks spectacular.”

“Please do say so.” Balthazar preens at the excellent first impression. “I’ve made chocolate parfait, with a salted caramel sauce, and peanut crumb.” He’s all about decadent desserts, and he’s flattered by the favourable responses his dish gains.

“ _This_ is incredible,” Becky states. “ _This_ is delicious, _this_ is what MasterChef is all about!”

-

“Now for the final tasting,” Kali observes. “Let’s hope we end on a high note.”

-

“Hey,” Becky greets him cheerily. “What have you cooked for us, Castiel?”

“A honey-baked pumpkin risotto.” He’s also serving it with parsley, a dollop of mascarpone, and more honey drizzle.

Becky raises her eyebrows, a little taken aback. “A risotto.”

Kali and Chuck exchange identically dubious glances.

Cas chuckles nervously and nods. Risotto has a reputation on MasterChef, and not a good one: it’s known as the Death Dish. There’s been more risotto disasters than any other type of dish over the years. Last year, a contestant was sent home during this part of the audition process due to a substandard risotto. But if he’s going to get an apron today, he needs to take this risk.

“I _am_ pleased with how it’s turned out.” He can only hope it meets their approval too.

Becky eyes him thoughtfully. “You really want this.” Cas realises he’s standing to attention. He nods again. She takes his plate and begins to sample the risotto.

Chuck touches her arm. “If you feel like you want to bring it back, then bring it back.” He and Kali retreat to their seats on the dais.

Cas holds his breath as Becky slowly tries another mouthful, then another. His heart begins to race as she picks up the plate and takes it over to the others; a move which earns some surprise from her fellow judges. He peers at them intently as they all crowd together to taste his dish. They murmur quietly to each other. Try as he might, he can’t make out what they’re saying.

The three judges return to the bench. Becky sets his plate down. They all stare at him.

Cas swallows. He’s former special forces, and he’s felt less anxious in a warzone.

“I admire your courage,” Becky says. “A risotto – on day _one_ – when you know its reputation for damning contestants. But you came in here; confident; determined. And you know what? You nailed it.” She smiles. “This risotto is so flavoursome. Yes! It’s a yes from me, for sure.”

“It’s the best risotto I’ve tasted in a long time,” Chuck tells him. “And not just in this kitchen, but in restaurants too. So: _yes._ ”

Kali sets a hand on the bench beside his plate. “You bought us a risotto which showed great skill, impressive technique. There’s only one other thing I can say. Yes.”

Cas ducks his head so Chuck can put the apron on him. “Well done,” Chuck says.

Anna and Benjamin both scream when Cas re-emerges. They barrel into him, the three of them devolving into a pile of thrilled hollering. The crowd swamps them, also cheering. Cas is treated to a thump on the back by Crowley; Balthazar throws an arm around his shoulder, shakes him; Gabriel jumps up for Cas to catch him in a full-bodied hug.

When Cas detangles himself from Gabriel, he turns to see Dean beaming at him. The man’s quick to pull him into another tight embrace. “Congratulations!” Cas’s face flushes warm, and not solely due to his success either. He returns the hug just as tightly.

-

Chuck heaves a satisfied sigh. “What a fantastic day of tasting. How many aprons have we given away so far?”

“Nineteen.” Becky says, impressed by the number. “We’ve seen some truly amazing food.”

“And I think it’s clear we have a remarkable season ahead of us,” Kali states.

-

*

_Next time on MasterChef SPN:_

“There are seven of you,” Chuck announces, “but only five aprons left.”

Garth’s determined to cook his heart out. He doesn’t want to miss out again.

“This _needs_ to work,” Ruby implores, staring into the oven.

“Which four of you will impress enough to earn your place in the MasterChef kitchen?”

Adam tries to keep his hands from shaking. The pressure’s crazy. This is his dream on the line.

“I don’t have any hesitation in giving you an apron right now,” Becky declares.

*

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -
> 
> Gloria was the name of Hael’s vessel – they’re twins in this universe.
> 
> -


	2. Is that choux?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The search for the Top 24 continues in the second round of auditions. Applicants face a crafty citrus challenge in their fight to earn an apron.
> 
> Ruby’s pastry efforts will incite various dramatic responses. Several cooks encounter struggles with their sauces. And will Adam’s ice-cream set on time?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -
> 
> Special shout out to CorsairCat - I hope this starts your day off with a smile.
> 
> -

-02-

The cooking stations in the warehouse have been rearranged into rows, one for each of the remaining applicants. Cas and the rest of the contestants, already wearing their white aprons, are standing along the side of the room. The judges stand at the front, with a pantry of incredible ingredients laid out behind them. There’s a small podium to their left where the pile of rolled up aprons sit. And in front of them is a small table, in the middle of which sits a large silver cloche.

“What do you think’s under there?” Gabriel murmurs.

Cas shrugs. “We’re about to find out; here they come.” Everyone starts applauding as the remaining applicants enter the building, filing past the rows of cooking stations to line up before the judges.

“Welcome back,” Becky says. “Hope you’re all feeling refreshed. Yesterday, you put up some good food; but today, we want to see more. We want to see you step up your game; prove to us that you deserve one of these.” She points to the pile of aprons, then gestures to the other contestants. “Another chance for you to join these guys in the MasterChef kitchen.”

“There are seven of you,” Chuck announces, “but only five aprons left.” He pauses. “Today we’re giving away just four.”

Kali steps forward. “I suspect securing yourself an apron isn’t the only thing playing on your mind at the moment.” She sets a hand on her hip. “We can see you asking yourselves: what’s beneath the cloche?” Cas smiles as Gabriel snorts and nods.

“Concealed under here is the ingredient you must feature in your dish today,” Chuck tells them. “It’s something indispensable in any kitchen, for its versatility. It’s so ingrained in our culinary history that no one’s really sure about its origins. But we do know it entered Europe during the time of Ancient Rome, though it wasn’t widely cultivated until about the fifteenth century.”

“Your hero ingredient today is…” Kali lifts the cloche to reveal a bowl of bright yellow fruit. “Lemons.”

Cas observes the reactions of the applicants. Most of them seem pretty pleased by this but there are a few furrowed brows.

“You’ll have seventy-five minutes to cook whatever you like, sweet or savoury,” Becky instructs. “We’ll taste all of your dishes; the top four will earn their makers an apron. The rest of you will go into tomorrow’s pressure test to vie for that final one.” This announcement earns wary looks; it’s not a position any of them will want to be in.

Chuck sets them off. “Your time starts…now!” The seven applicants race to start collecting their ingredients.

“Lots of options,” Balthazar muses, nudging Gabriel. “What would you do?”

“Hmm. Pudding, maybe; lemon delicious.” Gabriel peers at Ruby’s ingredients as she starts unloading her basket. “Ooh, or a lemon curd tart.”

Nodding, Cas offers, “lemon and fennel pair well.” He’d likely have gone with fish.

“Jo loves it when I make roast lemon chicken,” Ellen contributes.

Cas watches Nora pour coconut milk into a bowl, then add plenty of lemon zest. Ruby’s also making an ice-cream by the looks of things. He suspects they’ll see a few. As Ruby moves onto another element, Balthazar makes an interested noise. “Is that choux?”

“Huh.” Ash drapes his arms around Cas and Ellen, resting his weight on them as he leans forward. “Ruby; whatcha making?”

She grins a little as she replies. “Profiterole ice-cream sandwiches.” Balthazar and Gabriel make identical moans of longing.

-

“Adam’s lemon drizzle cake sounds all right,” Dean comments. “I mean, it’s no lemon meringue pie…”

Sam rolls his eyes, grinning. This is an old argument between them. “Snack snob. Come on, you _know_ you can’t pass up a really good cake.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Dean casts his gaze around the room. Everyone’s cook is properly underway now. “Wonder who’s going to join the ranks? It’ll be interesting getting to know them all, over the coming weeks, and months.” Dean leans forward a little, peering down the line of spectators on his right. Gabriel’s making wild hand gestures at Balthazar and Cas. Cas looks up, catching Dean’s gaze, and smiles. Dean grins back.

“Some more than others?” Sam asks, too innocently.

Dean decides to ignore this. He returns his attention to Adam, then squints. “What’s Adam heating up?”

“Cream, I think.” Sam cranes his neck and calls Adam’s name. “You making ice-cream?”

Adam nods, continuing to stir as he looks across at them. “Lemon, thyme, and honey.”

Delicious, Dean thinks. But Missouri casts a concerned look at the large clock hanging at the front of the room. “I think ice-cream takes about an hour to set in these churners,” she says. Dean glances up at the clock too. There’s only fifty minutes left.

“Adam, you need to get that in,” Sam urges. Adam looks grim as he relays that the anglaise still isn’t cool enough yet. The waiting, for the next minute or so, is agonising. Dean sighs in relief as Adam finally gets the mixture in the churner.

-

Meg mixes the green curry paste for the base of her broth. This recipe is one she’s used before, when cooking for her brother, but she usually makes a lime broth. It’s a little risky, substituting the limes for lemons, but she’ll need to be bold if she wants to win an apron.

Yesterday Tom had been by her bench as she cooked, riling her up, pushing her to do better. He’s the one who encouraged her to fill out her application form; getting into MasterChef isn’t just for her. She won’t let him down.

She adds chili, coriander, ginger, and spices to her broth. She can totally do this.

-

Crowley tunes out the quiet debate between Mick and Bela about Harry’s chicken dish. He watches as Ed caramelises his pork in a pan; the skin’s already crisping up in the oven.

Adding the bourbon and the lemon juice Crowley approves of, but he frowns catching a glimpse of the pork as Ed puts it into the oven. The pieces look a little small. He’ll want to keep a close eye on them as they cook.

-

Garth’s determined to cook his heart out. He doesn’t want to miss out again. He’s going to show the judges he can nail complex combinations as well as the sort of homely comfort food he served them yesterday. He’s got his ocean trout in the sous vide machine, and his mussels and pipis cooking. He’s going to pair them with a fennel puree.

“What sauce are you doing, Garth?” Pamela asks.

“Lemon beurre blanc,” he replies. The rich butter sauce should complement the trout.

She nods approvingly. “Nice.” He gives her a thumbs up, which earns a soft laugh.

-

Leaving her jelly to set, Nora moves onto crushing up the peanuts. She offers Ellen thanks and a smile when the older woman calls encouragement out to her. Ellen’s a mother too, she knows, though her daughter is a grown woman now. Nora’s own bundle of joy is still a baby.

It’s hard to be away from Tanya, especially as she’s so young. But Nora knows, if she does get into the competition, the sacrifices she’s making will be worth it. Getting into MasterChef would mean more than helping her achieve her dream; it’s a starting point for ensuring a better life for her little girl.

She starts toasting off the peanuts with fresh determination.

-

“This _needs_ to work,” Ruby implores, staring into the oven.

She’s confident in the flavour of her lemon fennel ice-cream. But she knows the success of her dish will come down to how her choux turns out. The profiteroles are baking, slowly gaining some colour, and starting to expand. But they’ve still got a way to go.

She has everything crossed that they work. Her fate in this kitchen depends on it.

-

Meg tastes her broth and immediately wrinkles her nose in dismay. It doesn’t taste right.

“What’s wrong?” Uriel asks her from the sidelines.

She stirs the broth, tastes it again. “It’s too salty.” She needs to fix this, fast.

Zachariah leans over to murmur something to Uriel, who shakes his head. Kevin calls out some encouragement, suggesting Meg think on how she can counter the saltiness.

Meg bites her lip, chews on it, and scans her bench for inspiration. “Oh!” There’s still lemongrass and kaffir lime leaves sitting there – she hastily adds them to the broth.

-

“Which four of you will impress enough to earn your place in the MasterChef kitchen?” Kali calls out. “Twenty minutes to go!”

Benny glances at the clock. It’s amazing how quickly the time’s going. And the reminder only seems to heighten the stress in the room.

“Harry!” Samandriel warns. “Your lemon sauce!” Harry swiftly pulls the saucepan, which was starting to boil over, off the heat.

This prompts Ed to check his sauce. When Aaron asks him how it tastes, he makes an OK sign. “Great star anise aftertaste, just what I want.”

Pamela touches Benny’s arm. “I think Garth’s in trouble.”

Benny looks back over at the man, who’s now stirring some sugar into his pan. “Garth? All good?”

“Sour,” is Garth’s worried response. “Too lemony.”

Pamela sighs unhappily. Benny frowns. The time pressure alone doesn’t leave Garth with many options to fix this.

Garth picks up his other pan, the one he’d been using to cook the mussels and pipis. He tips the cooking liquid into his sauce. Benny’s impressed by his ingenuity – this should hopefully add the needed sweetness.

-

With her lemon syrup on and the zest blanching, Ruby turns her attention back to the oven. “Moment of truth,” she declares and pulls out her tray of profiteroles.

Balthazar exclaims, “oh, yes!” Gabriel whistles his appreciation loudly, and they both start cheering.

Ruby’s ecstatic. The pastry is perfectly puffed and golden. She sets them aside to cool down.

-

Adam’s happy with his cakes – they’ve risen nicely and are a lovely golden-brown colour. He’s got the marmalade and thyme he’s going to serve along with it ready. He just needs to check on his ice-cream. He’s worried it hasn’t had long enough.

He opens the churner, pulls out the container. Adam tries to keep his hands from shaking. The pressure’s crazy. This is his dream on the line.

“How’s it looking?” Dean asks.

Adam tries not to panic. “It’s too soft! It hasn’t set properly.” He can’t form a proper quenelle, but he tastes the ice-cream and the flavours are good. He’s still going to use it, even though it’s not holding its shape, and hope for the best.

-

“Five minutes to go!” Becky proclaims.

Cas watches as everyone scrambles to assemble their elements for plating. Meg gets her fish out of the pan; Nora and Ed both pour their sauces into serving jugs; Harry’s trying to drain his chicken; Ruby assembles her ice-cream sandwiches; and Adam’s turning cake offcuts into a crumb.

Everyone counts them down in chorus. “…three, two, one!”

-

“Well there we are!” Chuck addresses the room brightly. “Your first real taste of a MasterChef challenge. Now let’s see how you all faired under the pressure.”

“Firstly;” Kali surveys the line of hopefuls. “Nora.”

Nora carries her dish up to the front of the room and places it on the table before the judges. “Coconut and lemon ice-cream, with lemon jelly, toasted nuts, and a lemon sauce.”

Becky giggles excitedly as she tastes. Nora smiles, missing Tanya all the more fiercely. “That ice-cream: yum. And it’s so smooth.”

“Simple; restrained,” Kali compliments her. “The added texture of those nuts was a nice touch.”

-

Garth’s nervous as he pours his sauce. He’d been so focused on his fish as time ran down; he hopes the sauce had enough time for the flavour to readjust. If it’s still too sour, it’ll ruin the whole balance of the dish.

“Fish is cooked perfectly,” Chuck notes as he cuts into it. “The sauce…” Chuck takes another spoonful of it before continuing, “the sauce is lovely. And that puree is delicious; really ties the whole thing together.”

There’s an obvious bounce in his step as Garth returns to his bench. He holds out his hand, high-fiving Samandriel as he walks past.

-

The judges’ verdict about Harry’s fried lemon chicken being too oily doesn’t do much to settle Adam’s nerves, but then it’s his turn. He presents his plate with the cake and crumb, setting the small serving bowl of melted ice-cream beside it.

“Shame about your ice-cream,” Becky says. “But as we say, it’s all about the taste. So, let’s see how you go.” She pours the ice-cream onto the plate, scooping up a spoonful containing all the elements.

Kali waits beside her, clicking her tongue in amusement when Becky goes back in for seconds. Twice. “Are you finished yet?”

“Just being thorough.” Becky winks as she moves aside to let Kali taste. Adam takes this as a good sign.

“Your use of thyme is excellent,” Kali relays. “And, even though it didn’t set, so is your ice-cream.”

“Cross your fingers,” Chuck suggests. Adam nods, hoping his flavours will be enough to get him through.

-

“Sticky lemon pork belly; crispy skin; lemon pickle; and sticky lemon sauce,” Ed describes.

Madison leans in to whisper, “I don’t think his pork’s right.” Crowley makes a noise of agreement. He didn’t really see the meat as it came out of the oven though, as he’d been more focused on monitoring the quality of Ed’s sauce.

“The crackling and the sauce are good,” Chuck notes. “That sauce really is flavoursome. But the pork? It’s overcooked.”

“Knew it,” Madison murmurs, as Ed’s shoulders slump with disappointment. “He should’ve cooked bigger pieces, then cut them afterwards.”

“Lesson learned, I suppose,” Crowley replies.

-

There’s immediate excitement as Ruby sets her dish down. She’s pleased with how the three ice-cream sandwiches look, sitting in a row on the rectangular plate. She picks up her glass bottle full of the syrup and drizzles it over the top of each.

“Ooh, can you put some on the side there for me, to dip?” Chuck asks.

Ruby grins and complies. “Becky? Kali? You want to dip too?”

“I’ll have a dip,” Becky says.

“Just drizzle for me,” Kali replies amicably. The judges get to tasting, which involves a lot of lip smacking and finger licking. Ruby’s grin widens. Kali wipes her hands with her handkerchief. “Fun; flavour; technique; everything that good food should be all about.”

Chuck nods enthusiastically. “These profiteroles are so light! With such perfect texture.”

“And this _sauce,_ you just have to go back in for more.” Becky punctuates this by dipping her sandwich again. “That you got all this done in that time is an amazing effort. And it’s _so_ delicious.”

“Thank you.” Ruby presses her clutched hands to her chest.

“I don’t have any hesitation in giving you an apron right now,” Becky declares. She glances at the other judges for consensus.

Chuck nods, concurring. Kali strides back over to the podium and takes an apron from the pile. Ruby practically dances forward, eager to let Kali drape it over her neck, babbling her thanks.

Becky gives Ruby a hug, thanking her in return for the delightful food. “Now go and join the others.”

Ruby turns and runs, throwing herself into the group. Ash catches her; Balthazar and Gabriel also crowding in to pat her on the back, as Ellen whispers congratulations.

-

The judges wait for the mood to settle back down before they call Meg up. She’s confident about her pan-fried snapper, but still a little concerned about the lemon broth.

“The broth certainly looks creamy,” Kali observes. Meg watches nervously during the tasting. “Nice flavour,” comes the verdict and her knees nearly buckle. “And good colour on the fish.”

-

“I’m so glad we already have our aprons,” Sam murmurs to his brother as the remaining six applicants line up in front of the judges for the results.

Dean nods. “Absolutely.”

“Well we’ve already handed one apron out,” Chuck says, smiling at Ruby, who beams. “Now for the rest of them. The first of you to receive an apron is…Garth.”

Garth’s expression is delightedly surprised as everyone cheers. He heads forward to accept the apron from Chuck, pulling the man in for a hug. Benny holds out his hand when Garth approaches, the first to shake his hand as he joins their line.

“The next apron goes to…” Kali pauses. “Nora.”

Hands on her cheeks, Nora’s speechless. She tears up as Kali gives her the apron. Ellen wraps the other woman in a hug. “You did really well,” Cas tells her.

Everyone’s eyes fall on Becky, the apron in her hands. “The final place was a close call,” she says. Adam or Meg, Sam reckons, given the significant flaws in Ed and Harry’s dishes. “There were two other dishes which really delivered in terms of flavour. But only one of those nailed the execution. And that dish belonged to Meg.”

Adam wilts a little but applauds for Meg as she’s handed her apron. Uriel pats her shoulder as she stands beside him.

“Still another spot left,” Dean murmurs, clearly rooting for Adam too.

“Adam; Harry; Ed.” Chuck says solemnly. “Tomorrow, the three of you go into a pressure test to compete for that final place in the MasterChef competition. Let me say this: the one who wants it more, will be the one to get it. And whichever of you wins will truly have earned it. Because tomorrow’s challenge is going to be _nuts._ ”

As they all leave the warehouse, Sam falls into step with Adam. “Hey, good luck for tomorrow. I’ll be cheering you on.”

“Thanks, Sam. I appreciate it.” Adam brightens somewhat. “Hey, I’ll make you a deal: if I get into the Top 24, we can hold study sessions together?”

“I hold you to that,” Sam agrees.

-

*

_Next time on MasterChef SPN:_

“Three of you, and only one apron. The last apron.”

Becky announces. “Please welcome, Bobby Singer!”

Bobby lifts the cloche, revealing the dessert. “Karen’s Snickers Chocolate Bar.”

He reaches out with his bare hand to flatten the caramel – then instantly recoils in pain. It _burns._

“It’s all going to hinge on the theatre of their chocolate sauce.”

There’s no other option but to throw it away and start again.

*

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -
> 
> You can be sure I will make food puns at any opportunity.
> 
> -


	3. Pay attention, boys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One apron; three cooks. Their challenge: to recreate a Bobby Singer masterpiece. For one of them; success will bring the sweetest victory of their lives.
> 
> A mentor arrives to act as their assessor. One cook will be haunted by butter – but the persistent pressure point becomes the peanut caramel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -
> 
> Supernatural may be set in the US, but I’m Aussie and so is MasterChef Australia, which is my reference material. So, expect to see Australian units of measurement.
> 
> -

-03-

They’re given a warm welcome as they enter the warehouse. Adam’s spirits lift when he clearly hears Sam and Dean above the rest of the noise, cheering loudly for him. Ed and Harry are going to put up a fight, but he’s determined to be the one who gets through.

“And so, it comes down to this. The final round of this year’s judge’s auditions.” Chuck surveys them. “Three of you, and only one apron. The last apron.”

“To get to this point, you’ve proven you have potential.” Kali steeples her fingers in front of her. “But to make it in MasterChef, so much will rely on how you respond to pressure.”

Becky’s bubbling enthusiasm brings a smile to Adam’s face. “And who better to put your knowledge and skills to the test? Not just a venerable chef in his own right, he’s also an indispensable mentor of the MasterChef kitchen,” Becky announces. “Please welcome, Bobby Singer!”

Adam spins around, beaming despite his nerves; he’s a huge fan of the gruff chef. Bobby enters the warehouse, holding a cloche, and makes his way towards the front of the room.

His entrance is marked with thunderous applause. Missouri and Ellen exchange delighted glances; Missouri setting a hand to her chest and Ellen making a show of fanning herself in response, the two of them laughing quietly. Garth’s bouncing in place; Ash’s fist-pump is a full-bodied effort. Dean repeatedly thumps his fist against his brother’s shoulder in excitement; Sam’s grin looks as wide as Adam’s feels.

Bobby sets his cloche down on the tasting table. He shakes Chuck’s hand, kisses both women on the cheek, then takes his place amongst the judges.

“Talk about a reaction.” Chuck turns to Bobby. “It’s so good to have you back for another year, Bobby.”

“Good to be back.” Firstly, Bobby addresses the room at large, talking a little about his experiences of mentoring, and this factoring in to why he enjoys being involved in MasterChef. Then Bobby shifts his attention solely to Adam and his two opponents. “Now, I understand pressure. The pressure of this job, and this competition. I chose this recipe for today with that in mind. My advice to you three would be: think about what you’re doing as you cook, and how the elements fit into the bigger picture.”

“Ready to see the dish which will decide today’s victor?” Kali asks. The three of them nod.

“Today, you’ll be cooking one of the most popular dishes from my flagship restaurant, The Salvager.” Bobby lifts the cloche, revealing the dessert. “Karen’s Snickers Chocolate Bar.”

Adam huffs a nervous laugh. Beside him, Ed’s jaw drops, and Harry’s eyes widen.

There’s a rectangular chocolate parfait, topped with piped nougat, and atop that is a perfectly rectangular piece of shiny milk chocolate. The whole thing sits on a base of peanut caramel fudge. Beside it, there’s also a rocher of what Bobby informs them is a caramel peanut ice-cream, nestled on a brown sugar crumble. There’s also a jug of sauce.

It looks beautiful, displayed in a deceptively simple arrangement. But Adam knows it’ll be intricate and complex to put together.

“This is a chocolate, caramel, and honey sauce.” Bobby picks up the jug. “Pay attention, boys.” He pours it – resulting in a series of hushed gasps. The hot sauce melts the tempered chocolate, draping over the nougat peaks.

“Oh, wow,” Adam whispers. The theatre adds even more thrill and interest to the dish.

Bobby invites them forward to taste. “Oh my god,” Ed moans after sampling the ice-cream. “I’m _dying_ – it’s so good.”

“This is your last chance to get into the Top 24,” Kali reminds them. “You have one hour and forty-five minutes to recreate Karen’s Snickers. In addition, you’ll have five minutes after the cook to plate your dessert.”

The moment Bobby declares their time’s started, Adam, Ed, and Harry run to their benches. Adam starts by skimming through the recipe, circling ingredients and underlining processes, numbering the pages as he goes. He likes to be organised with his notes – used a similar methodical approach when he’d studied for his biology major.

Spending the time to understand how the steps of the recipe all fit together helps him get his nerves under control. Gathering his calm and focus, Adam begins preparing his peanuts, to be roasted in the oven.

-

Balthazar winces when Harry, attempting to multitask, leaves his cream unattended for too long and it overwhips.

“That’s some excellent butter,” Samandriel observes as Harry discards it and starts up a new batch of cream.

Balthazar arches an eyebrow as Harry moves away to melt some chocolate. The parfait’s the hero, it’s worth taking the time to make sure it’s done right, especially this early in the cook.

“The perfect parfait should be light,” he begins, but he’s cut off as Aaron groans in dismay.

“Aah, he’s done it again.” Samandriel shakes his head at the sight of more butter.

This is definitely going to put Harry behind. At least the man decides to stand and watch the mixer for his third attempt. Lo and behold, this time it works, allowing Harry to add his melted chocolate, egg whites and sugar to the whipped cream.

Balthazar steps to one side, Samandriel and Aaron to the other, clearing a path for Harry, who races over to put his parfait into the blast chiller to set.

-

Desserts are a strength of his, so Ed’s familiar with making caramels and candying peanuts. He’s feeling very confident about his progress, and – even though it’s still early in the cook – his chances of winning that apron.

Mick calls out from the sidelines. “How’s your caramel, Ed?”

Ed checks it. “Colour’s perfect. Just about ready.” He’s loving that he has an audience. His food dream is to produce a television show or web series showcasing his culinary skills. This whole experience has already been such an adrenaline rush. He wants more.

He pours caramel over the peanuts, gives the tray a careful but firm shake to ensure an even spread.

-

“I still can’t believe they’re cooking for Bobby Singer,” Garth says. “Like, Bobby’s here, in person.”

Ash nods. “Radical, huh?”

Bobby’s recipe is impressive. Gabriel loved the surprise of melting the tempered chocolate. He reckons he’d have a lot of fun making this recipe – though he’s glad not to be cooking in this pressure test, of course.

“I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice-cream,” he sings under his breath as Adam gets his milk, cream, and vanilla pods on the stove.

“He didn’t have the best luck with his ice-cream yesterday,” Zachariah remarks.

Gabriel’s eyes flit to the clock. There’s plenty of time for the ice-cream; it’s getting all the other elements done on time that’s the concern. There’s still a lot that can go wrong.

-

Harry’s made up the ground he lost having to remake his cream so many times – he can see he’s only one step behind Ed and Adam. He’s almost finished with the components for the peanut crumb; if he gets his ice-cream on quickly enough, then he’s still in with a chance.

He pulls the peanuts out of the oven, pours hot caramel straight over the top. And in his frantic rush, he doesn’t think twice. He reaches out with his bare hand to flatten the caramel – then instantly recoils in pain. It _burns._

Harry swears, runs to the sink at the end of his bench and turns on the cold water, shoving his hand under it. “Nurse!” He really doesn’t need this right now. Worse than the pain is the sinking feeling that his opportunity to earn the apron has just slipped through his fingers.

He moves to the far side of the warehouse so the nurse can dress his injury. “At least it’s not my dominant hand.”

Tessa offers him a supportive smile. “That’s the spirit.”

Harry sighs a little but returns the smile. Even if his MasterChef story ends here today, he’ll keep his food dream – designing his own cooking compendium – alive.

-

“I love nougat,” Ruby informs them. “When it’s done right. Glossy and firm.”

Sam nods, watching Adam stir his honey, egg whites, and sugar mixture. “It’ll need to be firm to support the chocolate work.” And to maintain its integrity when the sauce is poured.

“Does Ed’s look a little runny?” Benny asks.

Ruby peers closely as Ed starts filling a piping bag with it. “Yeah, I don’t think he’s mixed it for long enough. That could impact it setting, make it soft.”

Sam’s not surprised Ed’s starting to rush – he seems to have started paying more attention to racing Adam than concentrating on his elements. Adam’s doing really well so far, Sam hopes he can keep up this momentum.

-

Kali’s proclamation cuts through the air. “Thirty minutes to go!”

“You wanna know what I think?” Gabriel says, with an air that makes it clear everyone’s going to hear about it either way. “It’s all going to hinge on the theatre of their chocolate sauce.”

“Theatre _is_ important.” Meg agrees. She’s an actress, she would know. They all watch as Ed and Adam start whisking cream into their caramelised honey, then combine it with the chocolate.

Bela deems Ed’s sauce beautifully smooth as he pours it into a jug. “I’d love a fountain of that.”

Meg smiles wryly. “Why stop at one? Have two or three.”

-

Now his sauce is done, the next step is making the peanut caramel fudge for the base of the chocolate bar. Adam adds some of his peanut crumb to the caramel he’s heating up on the stovetop.

But a moment of inattention and now he’s in trouble.

His caramel’s gone too far. “Oh, this is a disaster.” It’s crystalized, becoming hard and burnt, it’s like whisking rocks.

There’s no other option but to throw it away and start again.

He begins heating up more sugar. As the fudge mixture starts to come together, he worries about burning it again. He’s running out of time, so he takes it off the heat. He’s knows it’s too pale, but it’ll have to do. He hopes this element won’t cost him the apron.

-

“Ten minutes to go!” Bobby declares loudly.

Madison turns back to the other women, resuming their conversation. “Desserts aren’t really my thing.” She’s a carnivore at heart. Give her a prime cut of meat any day.

“I’ve got a bit of a sweet tooth.” Nora shakes her head. “But I’ve certainly not made anything this complex before. What about you, Pamela?”

“I favour French cuisine, so I’ve played with a few techniques. I do a _really_ good macaron.”

“You’ll have to make us some,” Nora entreats. Pamela laughs and agrees.

“You’re booked in now,” Madison jokes, pretending to mark the date on an invisible calendar. “Done deal; no cancellations.” They’re all going to learn so much from each other, as well as the judges.

-

The tempered chocolate is one of the key components of the dessert, so Adam needs to nail it. He chops up the chocolate and heats it up until the thermometer reads fifty degrees. Now he just needs to let it cool back down to twenty degrees while he stirs in room temperature chocolate.

He rests the thermometer against the edge of the bowl as he reaches for more chocolate, tilting his spatula out of the way; adds it, then fumbles with the thermometer.

It only drops into the melted chocolate for a moment, but the display’s covered in the stuff. He tries to wipe it on his shirt to no avail. He can’t read the temperature.

But he’s tempered chocolate a few times before, so he’s fairly confident he can wing it. It was just about done anyway – just a minute or so more and he can smear it onto the sheet of acetate.

-

There’s something rather invigorating about observing the chaotic frenzy as the thirty second mark is called, Crowley finds.

Kevin hollers his support at Adam, as he tries to get a perfect rocher of ice-cream; Uriel bellows repeatedly at Ed to get his parfait back out, to portion it. Harry, realistic about not having time to temper chocolate, attempts to compensate by just melting some instead, though Crowley doubts it will have the integrity to make the plate in the end.

When time’s up, all three cooks stagger a little at the sudden adrenaline crash. Crowley hangs back as some of the others approach, patting shoulders and offering hugs. He starts calculating the odds for who’s going to be declared the winner.

-

“All right, Ed,” Bobby proclaims. “Your five minutes starts now.”

Ed’s satisfied with the consistency of his peanut caramel, but his nougat’s a little runny. It doesn’t form stiff peaks like Bobby’s had. At least it tastes the same. Trying to peel the tempered chocolate from the acetate is difficult. It’s sticking, refusing to come off cleanly and starting to flake. He breaks off a couple of shards instead, laying them to try and cover as much of the nougat as he can.

“Well done in getting all of your elements up,” Becky commends.

“How bad do you want this?” Chuck asks.

Ed’s never felt so much tension before, he doesn’t think his shoulders will ever relax again. “So badly.” Chuck tells him to pour the sauce. He’s generous with it, ensuring he covers all the gaps between the chocolate shards. Slowly, the chocolate begins to melt over the nougat. He sighs in relief.

“I love the flavour of your ice-cream,” Kali notes. “And your peanut caramel’s excellent.”

“But your presentation has suffered,” Bobby acknowledges. “The broken chocolate work; the softness of the nougat, means you didn’t quite achieve the theatre we’re looking for. But really good effort, Ed.”

-

Cas leans in close to whisper to Dean as Harry’s called up to the tasting table. “For a while there, I didn’t think he’d even get his parfait done.”

“Yeah. Butter; burns; he had a terrible run.” Dean’s lip quirks. “Didn’t give up though. Gotta give him credit for that.”

Because he’d lost so much time, Harry didn’t get to complete his chocolate work. It really does make a difference, Cas thinks, watching as the sauce drapes messily over the dessert.

“Obviously, you’ve missed the chocolate,” Bobby notes. “And there’s a lack of honey in your sauce.”

Cas tuts, earning himself a grin from Dean. “The blasphemer,” he teases. Cas rolls his eyes, but smiles because, well, Dean’s not wrong.

“But you should be proud of what you’ve managed to put up,” Becky tells Harry. “Especially your ice-cream, it’s lovely and smooth.”

“And the flavour’s a close match for mine,” Bobby agrees.

It’s been fairly apparent Harry’s not going to get through, so it’ll come down to the other two. Cas is secretly hoping Adam’s tasting goes well, mainly because he knows that’s who Dean’s supporting.

-

Adam’s worried about his peanut caramel. Because he didn’t take it far enough, it lacks the toffee colouring Bobby’s had. But at least his tempered chocolate peels away from the acetate easily. He cuts out a perfect rectangle, carefully places it atop the nougat.

“That looks beautiful,” Kali declares as he presents his plate to the judges. Adam smiles widely. “You seemed fairly composed during most of your cook. Are you confident?”

“I think I’ve done enough. I hope I have.”

“You’ve put up the best chocolate work,” Bobby commends him. “Your determination’s really come through on the plate.”

“It was pretty special, to make this,” Adam tells him. “I want to be a pastry chef; to make something from one of the best has been a huge honour.”

Becky gives an anticipatory wiggle. “Go on then, Adam. Pour your sauce.”

He nods. Holds his breath as he lifts the jug. This is what’s really going to count.

Ribbons of sauce dress the dish – and the tempered chocolate melts as perfectly as Bobby’s had, causing a wave of excitement through the room. The judges make quiet sounds of admiration, clearly impressed by the theatre. Adam’s delighted.

“Sauce; beautiful,” Chuck states. “Your parfait; so light and delicious.”

“Your peanut caramel is not the best we’ve had,” Bobby concedes. “It’s the one element you’ve got wrong.”

-

In Chuck’s hands lies the sought-after prize. “This apron is about to change one of your lives.”

“The three of you should be proud of what you achieved today,” Bobby states definitively. “All of you pushed yourselves, gave everything you had. All of you impressed with the flavours you delivered.” He pauses. “But this dessert was also about theatre. And Adam, that’s why the apron is yours!”

Chuck hands the apron to Bobby, who in turn presents it to an elated Adam. After a round of shaking hands, Adam’s sent to join the other contestants, who swallow him up in a group embrace. Missouri helps him get the apron around his neck, and Aaron ties a clumsy bow at his back.

Once the celebration for Adam concludes, Becky addresses the two unsuccessful cooks. “Harry; Ed. You’ve had a taste of what this industry can offer. If you want to pursue a career in food, then make it happen. Don’t give up on your dreams.” Her smile shifts to something more solemn. “But for now, it’s time for you to leave. Thank you.”

Ed throws an arm over Harry’s shoulder as they make their way out of the warehouse amidst a round of applause, suggesting they consider some form of collaboration in the future.

-

“Congratulations, everyone. You,” Kali announces to the remaining group, “are this year’s Top 24!”

Bobby’s amused by the rousing cheer this evokes. “Celebrate tonight. You’ve all earned this.”

“Tomorrow, the competition really begins.” Chuck revels a little in the anticipation. “Tomorrow, you enter the MasterChef kitchen.”

“And it is going to be the best time of your life,” Becky says.

-

*

_Next time on MasterChef SPN:_

Sam considers the eight ingredients of Samuel Colt’s Mystery Box.

“I’ve seen pasta happening on about four benches.” Aaron’s immediately worried.

“Cheese, wine, and chocolate.” Crowley swivels the contents of his pot. “What more could one ask for?”

Chuck grimaces. “Doing two dishes, to hedge your bets? Ridiculous idea.”

“You must _ooze_ ,” Balthazar commands the fondant.

*

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -
> 
> I’m actually allergic to peanuts, so I’d leave them out XD
> 
> -


	4. As cool as a cucumber

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The contestants perform their first cook in the MasterChef kitchen. To inspire them, the previous champion. Who will impress? And who will end up facing the first elimination?
> 
> There’s bonding along the benches, comradery amongst the cooks. Kevin isn’t the only one with both sweet and savoury on the mind. And kaiserfleisch marks some key contenders...

-04-

The garden out front, filled with herbs, fruits, and wildflowers, smells incredible. There’s an assortment of raised planter beds throughout the courtyard. Benny stops by the largest, at the heart of the yard, arranged in a spiral with the trademark M at its centre.

“We lost Gabriel to the lemongrass and strawberries,” Nora laughs. She leans in to inspect the lavender.

Benny’s not surprised. He exchanges a knowing grin with Cas. “Eggplant, horseradish,” Cas murmurs. “I could spend all day out here.”

Ash points across the yard. “Hey, man, the scooter!”

Benny follows his gaze. The red scooter is a familiar sight, parked near the curry leaf trees by the stairs leading up to the entrance. The large building, originally a warehouse before being repurposed by the judges, harbours the MasterChef kitchen inside.

“Shall we get this show on the road then?”

-

Mick reaches the top of the stairs first, alongside Bela. They concur with a glance and push open the doors together.

Walking into the kitchen is amazing, Mick can hardly believe it. The large, open space is well illuminated. There are eight rows of benches in front of them, each with three Mystery Boxes staggered apart to indicate the assigned cooking stations. Each row has two stovetops, as well as a sink on the end.

To the left of where they’d entered through the doors are the equipment racks. There’s a spiral staircase on the right, leading up to the gantry; the balcony that spans the side of the room. Mick leads his fellows towards the front of the room, passing the equally distanced groups of appliances – fridges, blast chillers, and microwaves.

They line up in two rows at the front of the room, underneath the hanging clock, facing the judges. Becky welcomes them, her brief speech capturing everyone’s excitement at finally having made it into the MasterChef kitchen, in white aprons all their own. Mick thumbs over his name, now embroidered onto his apron opposite the MasterChef logo.

“Getting in was the easy part.” Kali’s measured words reigns everyone’s focus back in. “The real challenge starts now. It’s possible for any one of you to win this competition, so long as you devote yourself to learning, improving. This, right here and now, is truly where your food journey begins.”

“At this point, you might be feeling those nerves starting to creep in,” Chuck says, smiling. “Well, today we’ve bought in someone who understands exactly how you feel, because he’s stood exactly where you stand now. Someone who’s proof that MasterChef can help you achieve your food dream.”

Ash begins nudging Mick with his elbow, making a noise which sounds like a distant train whistle. Mick stifles a laugh.

“From the newly opened Armsmear in Hartford, Connecticut – last year’s winner, Samuel Colt!”

They greet him with applause. Mick leans in to whisper to Ash, “the trophy!” Samuel places the large golden dish onto the pedestal to the side of the judges. It’s engraved with the names of all the previous winners. Mick would love to see his join the ranks.

Chuck grins at Samuel. “Remember how it feels to be over there?”

“It’s certainly easier on this side of the room,” Samuel jokes. “I never imagined, standing there this time last year, that twelve months on I’d have the doors open on my very own place.”

“Any advice for them?”

Samuel considers them all. “Take every cook for what it is. Learn to adapt. You can’t control what happens on the day, but you can control how you respond to it.” And with those words of wisdom, they’re all sent to stand behind the benches.

-

“You may lift your lids, now.”

Sam considers the eight ingredients of Samuel Colt’s Mystery Box. Chocolate drops; grapes; blue swimmer crab; kaiserfleisch; lemon myrtle; goat’s cheese; cucumber; and macadamia nuts. His mind’s racing; he’s already got some ideas for a great dessert.

“Some rules.” Chuck tells them they’ll have seventy-five minutes to cook, and they must use at least one ingredient from the Mystery Box. “The pantry and the garden are both off-limits. But we’ve given you a box of staples under your bench.”

Next to him, Ruby glances down to check the staples. Sam follows suit – there’s milk; cream; sugar; butter; eggs; vinegar; and a selection of flours.

“The three contestants who cook the least impressive dishes will go into tomorrow’s elimination.” Kali shakes her head. “You’ll want to do everything you can to avoid that, trust me.”

Becky chuckles knowingly. “Indeed.” She peers around at Samuel and asks him to do the honours.

“Your time starts now.”

-

The first thing Kevin does is duck over to the equipment rack to fetch an ice-cream churner for his pickled grape sorbet. Once the ice-cream’s churning, he’ll get started on mincing the kaiserfleisch. He wants to caramelise it, so it becomes sticky and delicious.

Samandriel glances up from where he’s breaking down his crab as Kevin comes back. “Good thing about being in the back row,” he jokes. “Equipment’s closer.”

Kevin gets his machine set up. Ellen’s already got a pot on the stovetop between the two of them, and she smiles when he asks if she minds whether he uses two of the burners. “Help yourself, there’s plenty of room.”

-

“What flavour’s your ice-cream?” Meg asks him as she starts building a sauce of sorts.

“Macadamia nut,” Balthazar replies. He’ll do a crumb to match. “And I’m going to do a chocolate pudding.”

Meg’s grunt and nod are approving. “Soft centred?”

“Of course.” It has to be oozy and gooey. Anything other than that would be a disaster.

-

Being on the front bench, Missouri’s immediately aware when Kali and Samuel break away from the other judges to approach. She’s been looking forward to the judges making their rounds, had been hoping Samuel would stop by her station. “Watching you last year really inspired me to apply.” Samuel was a teacher before applying, just like her.

“That’s kind of you to say, thank you.” Samuel smiles. “I hope you do well.” She really hopes he’ll like her dessert stack, come tasting time.

As he and Kali move on from their bench, Missouri turns to Sam. “Are you doing a lemon myrtle ice-cream too?” The boy looks to have a lot going on.

“Yeah,” Sam says. He rattles off a list of other components: a cheese mousse; a grape jam; a macadamia nut and chocolate crumb. “I’m going to put together something almost like a deconstructed cheeseboard.” He tastes his mousse, nods with satisfaction. “I hope I can get it all done on time.”

-

“Pastry for my tart shell,” Mick says when Cas looks over. “You?”

“Ravioli. With goat’s cheese and lemon myrtle filling.” He’s going to need to take care with the amount of lemon myrtle he uses – he doesn’t want it to overpower all the other flavours.

Mick’s intrigued by the combination. “Done it before?”

Cas shakes his head. “Lemon myrtle? No, not with pasta.”

“I’m nervous, putting together something as simple as a tart,” Mick confesses. “Do you think it’ll be alright?”

Cas reassures him that as long as their elements are all perfect, it’ll be fine. Though Mick doesn’t seem too reassured, his smile does return.

-

Adam returns to their bench with the rollers they’re going to need. “I’ve seen pasta happening on about four benches.” Aaron’s immediately worried.

Sure enough, when he looks up, he can see in front of him Dean’s making pasta. As he glances over his shoulder at the benches behind him, there’s at least one person in each row kneading, rolling, or wrapping pasta too. That’s a lot of pasta.

He hands Pamela a pair of tongs when she can’t find hers, so she can get her crabs out of the pot and into a bowl of ice water.

Aaron wonders whether his crab linguini will stand up against all the competition.

-

“Samuel’s chosen some beautiful ingredients for your Mystery Boxes,” Chuck calls out. “So, stay as cool as a cucumber, and bring us a claw-some dish! One hour to go!”

“That was amazing,” Samandriel laughs. The incredulous look he earns from Kevin makes him laugh harder, prompting a chuckle from Ellen. Kevin shakes his head at them, but he’s smiling too. Samandriel’s a sucker for puns. He’s usually the one cracking them; one must find amusement where they can as a fast food worker on the late shift.

Ellen smiles at him. “Well, is your dish going to be ‘claw-some’ then?”

“It certainly shall.” He’s going to serve his crab mousse on a savoury shortbread – it’s got crab in it, so pun fulfilled.

-

Neither Gabriel nor Zachariah seem to be having any trouble with their cook. Zachariah’s looking quite pleased with the progress of his crab bisque. But Uriel doesn’t have much more than an ice-cream so far.

When he’d first seen the ingredients, all he’d been able to think was chocolate; kaiserfleisch; chocolate; kaiserfleisch. The chocolate would work well with the ice-cream, of course, but he’s not convinced the ice-cream’s enough. So while he’s working on this sweet dish, he’s going to think of something else he can do with the kaiserfleisch.

-

“How’s your bisque looking?”

Garth peers in at it. “Coming along.”

Dean frowns at him. “You don’t seem too excited about it.”

That’s exactly the problem, actually. He has no clear idea of where the dish is going to end up. “How’s yours?” At least Dean’s happier than he is, confident his sauce will compliment his crab ravioli. “You’ve got a crumb on too?”

“Kaiserfleisch,” Dean agrees. “Are you doing one?”

He might. He’s got several bits and pieces he’s playing with, he’ll see what works out.

-

“Cheese, wine, and chocolate.” Crowley swivels the contents of his pot. “What more could one ask for?”

Bela’s never met anyone who could speak her language before, and on her level no less. “I had the same thought, as soon as I saw the grapes.” She samples one, sighs. “Let’s talk textures. Mousse?”

Crowley nods. “Dark chocolate, naturally. And I’m making a sabayon.”

“Ah, very nice.” It’ll show real technique if he pulls it off. “I’m sticking with whipped cream.”

“A classic.”

“Fingers crossed, I get my ratios correct,” she adds, once again tallying the quantities of everything.

Crowley tuts at her. “None of that now, Bela. No ‘hopefully’ – you of all people should know better.”

She laughs, because he’s right. She’s a damn good auctioneer, and well-practised at juggling numbers. “It will work,” she declares confidently.

“Much better.”

-

Adam’s putting his pasta through the roller when Kali comes by their bench. She watches him for a moment, then nods. Adam’s relieved there’s no fault to be found in his pasta.

Aaron’s not so fortunate. Kali examines the ribbons of pasta in his bowl. “Looks a little thin,” she tells him. “Raggedy.” Aaron dashes back to inspect it as she walks on.

Adam glances at him. “You going to fix it?”

“I should.” Aaron shakes his head. “I don’t really have time. It’ll be okay, once it’s cooked right.”

-

Gabriel returns from putting his aerated chocolate mousse in the freezer in time to hear Uriel say to the judges, “I’m making two dishes at the moment.”

Becky looks as baffled as Gabriel feels. “What?”

“I’m doing a burnt butter ice-cream, with a mousse and crumb,” Uriel explains. “But I think a savoury dish might be better, so I’m also making roti wraps, with kaiserfleisch, and a dipping sauce.”

Gabriel raises an eyebrow, tries not to take offence as he swipes a finger through his leftover chocolate mix. The dessert idea sounds just fine!

“Look, honestly?” Chuck grimaces. “Doing two dishes, to hedge your bets? Ridiculous idea.”

“Take some time now to think about it,” Becky advises, nodding.

Gabriel waits until the judges have moved around to the next bench before he turns to Uriel, who’s checking his oven. “So, which one are you going with then?”

Uriel gets another pot on the stove. “I still think I should cook both. I’ll decide which is better at the end.”

Personally, Gabriel thinks it’s unwise not to take the advice of the judges, but he shrugs and gets back to his own cook.

-

“Are you taking your tester out?” Nora’s excited to see if it’s worked. “How long did you have it in for?”

“Ten minutes,” Balthazar says, carefully running a knife around the inside of the mould, then tips it.

The fondant comes out perfectly. “Oh, how wonderful.” They smile at each other.

“Now, for the real test.” Balthazar picks up a knife. When he cuts the cake in half, the centre is still molten and gooey. Nora claps, and he whoops a little. He raises his voice. “Gabriel!”

“What?” In the row ahead, Gabriel peers over his shoulder. “Oh! Ooze! Nice!”

Nora laughs a little to herself.

-

Tasting her crab sauce, Ellen’s pleased with the flavour. “So, is it a sweet dish or a savoury one?”

Kevin’s testing the consistency of his goat’s cheese and lemon myrtle smear. “Sort of both, and neither. It’s meant to confuse the palate.”

He’s a clever young man. “What are you are student of?”

“Music. I enjoy it, but you know.” He gestures around.

Ellen nods, understanding. This is exactly where she wants to be too.

-

Cas lays out his pasta, ready to start assembling his ravioli. He spoons out equal portions of the filling, carefully folds the pasta over, then stamps around each one. All the raviolis are identical in shape and size. He’s thrilled.

“Got your water boiling, _ange noir?_ ”

“Yes. Thank you.”

Benny waves it away as he steps around Mick, who’s crouched and staring into the oven, waiting for his chocolate tart to be cooked.

-

Madison’s almost as overwhelmed as Garth looks, staring at all his elements. “Is there a single ingredient you’ve not used?”

Garth picks up the crispy kaiserfleisch; puts it back down again. “Dunno.”

“Maybe think about what you might leave off,” she suggests. “If it’s not all going to work together?”

“Yeah, maybe.” Garth seems torn. “It’s a lot of work though, I don’t really want to discard anything.”

-

There’s not long left, so Aaron gets his pasta into the boiling water. Ideally, he only wants to cook it for about a minute. While he’s waiting, he checks back in on his bisque, trying to decide whether the crab flavour sings through enough.

“Aaron,” Pamela calls. “Aaron!”

His pot’s boiling over.

He whips the pasta out, sets it to drain. His heart sinks. He’s left it in about thirty seconds too long. It’s overcooked.

-

“Five minutes to go!” Becky shouts.

All of Sam’s elements are ready. “Ruby – Ruby, do you need me to get you a plate?” She’s still trying to do three things at once.

“Oh! Yes, please! White; concave.”

Plating is very important, in Sam’s humble opinion. It pulls the whole dish together. He picks the plate Ruby requested, then hunts for his own. He chooses a rectangular slab with a marble effect. He’s already figured out how he’s going to arrange everything on it.

“You’re the best,” Ruby tells him when he returns, setting her plate down.

-

He knows he won’t have time to plate both dishes, so he needs to come to a decision now.

Uriel starts by gathering his sweet elements. The ice-cream’s turned out fine, but his chocolate mousse is still too soft. His macadamia, lemon myrtle crumb hasn’t cooked all the way through, it’s still too light.

Savoury it is.

The countdown comes just as he finishes plating.

“And time!”

Uriel steps back, turning to Zachariah. “You want some ice-cream?”

Zachariah double-takes at the tub of ice-cream on Uriel’s bench, but shrugs and grabs a spoon. “Tastes good.” The man looks from the tub to Uriel’s wraps. “Let’s hope you made the right decision.”

-

“Now it’s time to see how well you’ve all done.”

Ruby hopes to one day attain the fearsome elegance that is Kali.

“Firstly,” Samuel announces, “one with what’s clearly an excellent name: Sam!”

“Good luck,” she whispers as he passes her to take his food up.

Ruby’s not surprised by the judge’s impressed reactions. With about seven or eight elements, Sam made incredible use of his time.

“You’ve really set the bar,” Becky congratulates him.

“It’s a surprisingly subtle dish.” Kali uses her pinkie on the corner of the plate, adjusting it slightly. “This is clever plating. The thoughtfulness of the marble, to reinforce your notion of a cheeseboard, it’s a nice touch, Sam.”

-

“That’s stunning,” Chuck says. Samuel nods, also admiring Cas’s plating. “What’s the crumb?”

“Bacon and macadamia nut.”

Becky’s cutlery is poised, ready to cut. “I’ve got to say, it was beautiful, watching you work.” She inspects the inside of the ravioli, then pops it into her mouth.

Kali commends his clever application. “The lemon myrtle doesn’t dominate, which is often the risk.” She deems it restaurant quality.

Elated, Cas returns to his bench, collecting several pats on the arms and shoulders as he goes. Benny and Mick sandwich him in a hug.

-

Ash offers up his crab tortellini, with a lemon myrtle and macadamia crumb. Becky nods approvingly and deems it a well-balanced dish.

-

Dean’s already feeling pretty good about his ravioli before he takes it up to the judges. Which has nothing to do with the fact Cas had also made a ravioli. Although, great minds do think alike.

But Samuel Colt was one of Dean’s favourite contestants when he watched the show last year, so for him to praise the texture of Dean’s pasta makes him feel even better about it.

-

After the trouble she’s had with her broth during the auditions, Meg’s thrilled to be able to put up a sauce she’s confident about. “Goat’s cheese and macadamia nut ravioli.”

“This grape and bacon sauce,” Chuck says, “is magic.” She grins.

-

“I’ve made lemon myrtle fettuccine, with crab sauce.”

“It’s beautifully cooked,” Kali tells Ellen. “There’s an invigorating sweetness to it.”

-

“The latest in a long line of pastas,” Chuck notes. “How are you feeling about your efforts?”

“Not too bad,” Aaron hedges. “I’ve made crab linguine, with kaiserfleisch and a crab bisque.”

Kali’s blunt with the truth. “You’ve criminally overcooked the pasta. It’s reached the point where there’s something not quite right about it.”

“But the crab flavour in your dish? It’s fresh and clean,” Becky assures him.

Samuel nods. “The crab’s the best part of the dish.”

Aaron hopes this will be enough.

-

They may not be fancy, but Uriel knows the flavours should work together. “I’ve made roti wraps, with goat’s cheese, pickled cucumber, and crispy kaiserfleisch.”

“And the sauce?” Becky asks.

“That’s a grape and lemon myrtle vinaigrette, for dipping.”

Chuck taps a finger on the table thoughtfully. “Didn’t you want to make a dessert?”

Uriel laughs. “I did. Yes, I made an ice-cream and some other elements as well.”

The judges exchange glances, then they go ahead with the tasting.

Samuel sighs. “Look, there’s nothing wrong with it, exactly. But I find it a bit flat.”

Becky nods. “Imagine if you’d focused all your efforts onto this one dish, instead of splitting your time and attention between two. You could’ve bought so much more to the table.”

“You may find yourself in trouble,” Kali cautions him, “if you find yourself lacking ideas, and then struggle with committing to a choice.”

Uriel tries not to let his embarrassment show. Next time, he’ll pay more attention to the advice he’s given.

-

“You must ooze,” Balthazar commands the fondant.

Chuck bounds forward as he sets the plate down. “I’m excited about this. I saw the sample you did, which was perfect. How’s this one?”

“Also perfect,” Balthazar immediately responds, hoping it’s true. “Yes, so, here’s a dark chocolate fondant, with toasted macadamia nut praline and ice-cream.” He waits in anticipation as Chuck lowers the knife.

The inside of this fondant is indeed just as perfect as his tester.

“Aw, yeah!” Chuck beams as he delivers his verdict. “Perfect chocolate; crunchy outside; soft and oozy centre. Fantastic work.”

-

“Very tasty,” Samuel says, to Missouri’s delight. “I’m especially fond of the layers of torched meringue.”

-

“Chocolate sponge and mousse, with some picked grapes.”

“Deliciously clever,” Kali determines.

Gabriel winks. “Always for you, my dear.”

-

“You’ve made grapes and cheese appear enticingly exotic.” Becky samples another spoonful of the sauce. “Good job, Bela.”

-

Pamela sets her plate down. “Crab and grape salad.”

“It tastes as good as it looks,” Chuck congratulates her. “I love the contrast between the cold granita and the softness of the crab.”

-

“It’s a crab salad and bisque, with a goat’s cheese mousse, and pickled cucumber.”

Garth knows as soon as he puts it down, it’s not good enough. Samuel picks through it with his fork, apologetic as he says “it looks a bit mushy.”

“We know you understand flavour,” Becky offers. “You’ve made good use of roasting those crab bones for their sweetness. But,” she waves at the plate, “everything’s just a little too conflicted.”

“Yeah.” Garth nods, spirits sinking. He might be in trouble. “Thanks.”

-

Crowley presents his take on cheese, wine, and chocolate to the judges.

“You looked like you were having a great time during the cook,” Chuck states. “And this looks amazing.”

Crowley’s feeling pretty pleased with his efforts. Especially when Samuel praises the use of both fresh and sour grapes, and Becky can’t get enough of the roasted nuts.

“There’s shrewd skill in this plate of food.” Kali regards him, clearly impressed. “I tried the mousse on its own and found it quite sweet. But then I had it with the goat’s cheese and thought, ‘ah, there’s the acidity.’ Together, everything sings.”

“Great first cook, Crowley,” Chuck adds as he reclaims his plate. Crowley grins.

As he returns to their bench, Ash wildly gestures a rock-‘n’-roll salute in the air and Bela lets loose an accompanying whistle.

-

Kevin holds his breath during the tasting. Has the combination of all those sweet and savoury flavours worked the way he intended?

Samuel’s brow furrows. “I’m – hmm.” He takes another spoonful of everything. “I keep having to going back in to try and work this out.”

“It’s intriguing,” Becky agrees. “I love it.” He’s delighted. She further goes on to compliment the brightness of the sorbet. “You’re one talented cook, Kevin.”

-

Dean makes a beeline for Sam as everyone resumes their positions in line at the front of the room. “Awesome job, Sammy. You killed it.” Sam grins a little, ducking his head.

“It’s great to see some of you still smiling,” Kali comments. “We certainly saw some excellent dishes. Some in particular deserve special mention. Sam: you achieved a lot in the allocated time.” Dean exchanges another grin with his brother. Crowley: truly an inspired combination of elements.”

“Also, Kevin,” Becky continues. “The way you think about food is incredible. And Cas: definitely marked yourself down as one to watch. Well done, all of you.”

“But today was about the three least impressive dishes,” Chuck reminds them. “I don’t think those cooks will be too surprised by the results. If I call your name, please step forward. You’ll be in tomorrow’s elimination.” He pauses.

No one wants to be the one to do badly on their first cook. Dean glances at Garth, who’s braced for bad news.

“Aaron.”

Pamela pats the man’s back as she steps aside to let him forward.

“Garth.”

Dean sighs. He hopes Garth doesn’t take it too hard.

“And Uriel.”

Samuel regards the three contestants. “This competition’s a learning experience, so consider today a lesson learnt. Every opportunity to cook is another chance to improve yourself.”

“Go back to the MasterChef house and get some rest,” Kali instructs. “You’re going to need it.”

-

*

_Next time on MasterChef SPN:_

Becky’s hair is tied back from her face and she’s wearing her chef whites.

“Garth,” Madison urges, “watch your chicken!”

“That’s pretty fancy; pentagrams on potatoes.” Dean’s impressed.

Immediately, smoke starts billowing off the too-hot pan. Even as it’s swiftly pulled from the stovetop, it catches fire.

“In the MasterChef kitchen, undercooked chicken always sends you home.”

*

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -
> 
> ‘Ange noir’ – French for ‘black angel.’ The reason Benny’s calling Cas this will become apparent later on.
> 
> For clarity: Aaron’s Jewish. He had no qualms about cooking with the kaiserfleisch, but he didn’t sample any himself. This point is unrelated to the pasta disaster he had.
> 
> -


	5. Chicken-y is a proper term

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Up for elimination, Uriel, Garth, and Aaron attempt to keep pace with a professional chef. With no recipe, all they can do is try not to fall behind.
> 
> There will be three lessons: consider, if crushed, a redo; smell the smoke before the fire; and in the end, it’s all about colour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -
> 
> I hope everyone’s staying safe and healthy as this apocalyptic year continues to unfold. In the meantime, I offer this chapter of feelings and food.
> 
> -

-05-

“Here you are, dear,” Missouri says, setting the coffee on the table in front of Nora, who thanks her. She looks out the glass doors into the backyard. Touches of colour are beginning to creep across the darkened sky, signalling the dawn. The rest of the MasterChef house will begin to wake soon.

The house itself is both impressive and beautifully furnished. The six bedrooms and bathrooms are on the upper floor; the room she and Nora share with two of the other women has a balcony overlooking the yard. Outside, there’s an alfresco area housing a large table and a grill. Recliners are positioned in rows along the grassed area, as well as the paving beside the long, narrow swimming pool. There’s also an indoor gym on the far side of the house.

The open layout of the dining and main living room is comfortable and spacious. Missouri can just about see the front foyer from where she’s sitting; the staircase is behind the wall. But, naturally, the kitchen is the true feature of the house. State of the art appliances, generous workspaces, and a walk-in pantry the production team would restock weekly, according to their submitted requests.

“It’s bound to be tough for them today,” Nora muses. “The re-packing alone.” Before the challenge, each of the contestants up for elimination have to pack all their belongings – the one who doesn’t make it through won’t return to the house. “I’m feeling nervous for them.”

Missouri takes a sip of her coffee. She can hear movement on the stairs, two or three sets of feet quietly making their way down. “It’ll be a hard day,” she agrees. “But we’ll support them all as best we can.”

-

“I prefer the white apron.”

Pulling on his socks, Kevin glances up. The contestants for elimination dress entirely in black; shirt, slacks, and apron; the embroidered M is red rather than gold, and Uriel’s name is a stark white.

Zachariah pats Uriel on the shoulder. “Valuable experience though, hmm?” The older man smiles jovially in the face of Uriel’s heavy sigh.

Samandriel scratches at his chin. “How you feeling?”

Uriel examines himself in the mirror again, a sense of determination coming over his expression. “Ready to fight.”

Kevin’s glad to hear it. There’s nothing worse than entering a stressful situation in the wrong headspace. “We know you’ll do your best. That’s all you can ask of yourself.”

Zachariah grins. “Oh, always ask for better, Kevin.”

“Shoot for the moon; even if you miss, you’ll land amongst the stars,” Samandriel quotes, amused when Zachariah claps his hands together in agreement.

-

Adam peers into the doorway of their room, sees Garth sitting beside his half-packed suitcase, gazing at a photograph. “Hey.”

Garth smiles up at him. “Hey.” He offers Adam the photo as he sits beside him. It’s his family; his wife, daughter, and twin boys. “It’s hard, being away from them.”

“Yeah.” Adam glances at his suitcase. “But the longer you stay in, the more it’s worth it, right?” Nodding, Garth sighs. “Oi. You’re coming back tonight, I know it. We’re not going to lose one from our room already.”

Garth laughs a little, brightening. “Dean say that?” Adam grins. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.” He offers to help Garth finish packing so they can head downstairs. “Meg, Bela, and Mick got up early, they’ve made everyone breakfast.” He’ll make sure to cheer extra loudly for Garth today, knowing how encouraging he’d found the show of support during his pressure test.

-

Aaron spends most of the car ride reciting his grandfather’s recipe for potato latkes under his breath to calm his nerves – first in English, then German, then Yiddish. It’s a trick he used to use a lot during college.

His car is the first to pull up in the garden, Garth’s and Uriel’s not far behind. “Ready?” He asks them as they stand at the base of the stairs. Garth looks a bit pale, but he nods.

“Let’s go,” Uriel proclaims.

As they enter through the main doors there’s applause from the other contestants, all gathered up along the gantry. The room’s configured differently than usual – instead of rows facing forwards, the three benches are lined longways instead, facing the centre of the room.

There’s one single bench opposite, also facing inwards, where the three judges are waiting for them. Chuck and Kali are dressed as they usually are – but Becky’s hair is tied back from her face and she’s wearing her chef whites.

“Ohhh boy,” Garth whispers as they line up. Aaron locks his fingers behind his back and tries not to chew on his lip.

-

Becky announces they’re going to cook one of her dishes for today’s elimination, but they’re not going to be working at their own pace.

“Today,” Kali informs the three cooks, “there will be no recipe for you to read over; no finished dish for you to see or taste. Today is all about one thing.” She pauses. “Today, you’ll be keeping up with Becky.”

Beside him, Balthazar whistles lowly. Zachariah supposes this might work in Uriel’s favour, given what the man’s been telling him about his previous employment.

“Becky will be cooking in front of you,” Chuck elaborates. Becky smiles serenely, the picture of a seasoned professional. “You’re going to be cooking at the same time as her. You’ll need to watch her, and listen to her instructions, because she won’t slow down if you fall behind.”

Zachariah is immensely glad to be up on the gantry, rather than in Uriel’s position.

“Your time will end ten seconds after Becky finishes plating up her dish,” Kali declares.

“Holy guacamole,” Balthazar says.

“Hardly any time at all,” Zachariah concurs.

Kali continues. “The two closest replications will keep you in the competition; the worst will send their maker home.” She surveys the three lambs about to head to the slaughter one final time, then turns to Becky. “They’re all yours.”

Kali and Chuck then head for the stairs, to join the rest of them up on the gantry. Becky sends the three cooks to stand behind their benches.

-

Crowley cannot wait to see this. He’s watched all of Becky’s tutorial videos – while Chuck is usually regarded as the best cook amongst the three judges, Becky is by far the most creative.

“We’re going to be cooking something really simple,” Becky tells them with a wink. She counts the components off with her fingers as she lists them. “Roast chicken; peas; and potatoes.”

The three men chuckle nervously, a clear sign they believe it’s not going to be anywhere near as simple as Becky claims. Crowley agrees with them.

“Ready? Let’s go.” She starts setting up her bench, her actions mirrored by Garth, Uriel, and Aaron. A pot of water on the boil; pans, big and little, onto the gas. Becky takes a chicken out of the fridge, brings it back to her bench and begins to break it down. “Take the wings off. Make an incision on the leg, then push it through. We want to keep the skin on the breast.”

She’s moving at what Crowley’s mother would call ‘kitchen speed.’ “Oh my goodness, she’s already done,” Ellen murmurs.

Becky drizzles olive oil into her pans. “Put the chicken breast facing the outside of the pan.”

Uriel and Aaron get their chicken in the pan shortly behind her; Garth’s still breaking his down, looking a little flustered. Crowley keeps an eye on him as Becky talks about turning it once there’s good colour on one side. To fall behind so early on will make the rest of the cook an uphill struggle.

“See the colour?” Becky holds up her golden-brown chicken in demonstration. She returns it to the pan, fetches the herbs and other additional flavouring to add.

Aaron’s the first to run to the equipment rack behind him, beneath the gantry; Crowley and Ellen both lean on the railing, peering down. He runs back out a moment after Uriel disappears from view; Garth is only about twenty seconds behind him – but in a kitchen, every second is precious.

“Garth,” Madison urges, “watch your chicken!”

The pan looks a little too hot, Crowley notices, the chicken sizzling. Garth reappears, taking it from the pan and putting it on the chopping board. “Is it alright?” If it’s burned, Garth is in trouble.

Garth nods. “It’s fine,” he calls up.

“Just in time.” Madison sighs in relief. Crowley massages his temple.

Becky takes her pan, places it into the oven to finish cooking on the crown. “A hundred and eighty degrees, for about twenty minutes. You need to set a timer.”

-

When Becky starts getting the bones into the other pan, to roast and sizzle away, Uriel suspects they’re beginning to make a jus. This is reinforced as they move onto prepping and peeling vegetables.

“These are for our mirepoix.” Becky tells them to chop garlic, shallots, and half a carrot.

Hoping to save a bit of time, so he can keep pace with her, Uriel crushes his garlic under his knife, rather than cutting it.

Becky picks up her bowl containing her assortment of vegetables and walks out from behind her bench, to approach them. “Have a look at the quantities.” She tilts the bowl towards Aaron, as she walks past him; continues along, reaching Uriel. “Look how I’ve cut them.”

Her garlic is diced extremely finely, far more finely than Uriel’s crushed pieces. Since the mirepoix will make-or-break their sauce, Uriel decides to do his garlic again, properly. So much for saving some time.

Once Becky’s shown Garth her bowl, she returns to her own bench. “Veggies in the pan, now.”

-

“I’ve never heard of a pea custard,” Samandriel comments, leaning forward with interest.

“I had a terrible mushroom custard once,” Ruby responds as Becky measures out two hundred grams of peas into a bowl on her scales. The experience put her off savoury custards, but Becky’s will undoubtedly be delicious. Becky adds spinach and a pinch of salt to her pea mixture, blending it into a green puree.

Bela makes an appreciative sound as Becky then gets them to check on their bones, adding vermouth and white wine. “Now we want to reduce it on a high heat,” she instructs, “get rid of the alcohol.”

Ruby assesses the progress of the three men. Uriel’s still keeping up with Becky; Garth seems to have made up the ground he lost earlier; but Aaron’s momentum is now beginning to slow.

Becky gives her sauce a stir. “Should be thickening up.” She turns back to her custard. “So, now we’re going to add our eggs.” She cracks them open as she speaks. “And our fifty mils of cream. Then blend on low to combine it all.”

“How much cream?” Aaron calls.

“Fifty mils.”

Becky’s measurement is echoed by the cooks, but not harmoniously. Ruby leans towards Bela. “What did Garth just say?”

“I think he said one-fifty.” Bela cranes over, trying to get a look at his blender. “Oh, no.” Garth’s custard mix is much lighter than Aaron’s and Uriel’s.

“He won’t have time to redo that, will he?” He looks worried, possibly realising his mistake as he starts to pass the mix through a sieve.

Bela shakes her head. “I really hope it sets.” The custards get poured into moulds, sealed with foil, and placed into the oven.

-

Sam winces as a paper towel starts to smoulder before Aaron quickly pulls it away from his burner, pats it out. Good thing he noticed it.

Becky’s sauce has reduced now, the stock a lovely brown colour. “Taste it,” she reminds them. “Is it chicken-y enough?”

“See, Sam, I told you chicken-y is a proper term.”

Sam ignores this, merely to make Dean pull a face at him. “Becky moves so fast, it’s insane.”

She’s prepping her potatoes now. Becky takes off one side, then cuts out a disc. “About yay-thick,” she says, holding it up to show them. Then she takes her knife, starts rotating the potato to remove the skin.

Uriel runs out from behind his bench, approaching Becky’s, to compare the thickness of their discs. “Spot on,” Pamela remarks, then shouts, “nice work, Uriel!”

“Garth needs to get a move on.” Dean drums his fingers against the railing. “He’s not even started his yet. Come on, Garth.”

“I once worked with a cook who held great suspicion towards potatoes.” Becky takes one of her discs, sets it on the board in front of her. “He wouldn’t trust an underground plant nicknamed the ‘devil’s apples.’” She laughs a little. “We used to prank each other sometimes, so I decided to add some decoration to his meal.” She takes her knife, begins to score the top of the potato, listing off the lines as she makes them. “Ta da! Pentagram!”

There’s a chorus of laughter throughout the room. “That’s pretty fancy; pentagrams on potatoes.” Dean’s impressed.

“See, Dean, I told you fancy is a fighting term,” Sam immediately parrots at him.

Dean rolls his eyes, smirking fondly, then turns to Cas. “This, you see, this is what I have to put up with. Can you believe this?”

Other than a telling twitch of his lips, Cas is deadpan. “Anything’s a fighting term if you’re determined enough, Dean. But I agree with Sam.”

Dean gasp, pretending to be wounded. Sam grins, laying on the gratitude as he thanks Cas, listening to butter sizzling lowly in the pans below.

“I can smell something burning,” Cas says suddenly. And almost immediately, smoke starts billowing off the too-hot pan. Even as it’s swiftly pulled from the stovetop, it catches fire. The flames prompt alarmed gasps from many of the gantry.

“Oh, Garth,” Dean groans worriedly. Sam grimaces.

Becky is the epitome of calm. “Straight in the sink, rinse it, scrub it out.” Garth follows her instructions. “You okay, Garth?”

“Yeah. Sorry.” Garth runs back to his bench with a new pan, gets it on the heat with more butter. He’s fallen even further behind now.

Sam exchanges worried glances with Dean, Cas, and Pamela. There’s a chance his fondant potatoes won’t cook in time.

-

Becky tells them their sauces should be getting close now, but if they’re happy with the flavour to go ahead and strain it. Aaron inspects his, and it’s looking pretty close to hers. He’s feeling good about it.

“Aaron!” Meg shouts as he pours it into a smaller pot. “Your gravy? Beautiful colour!”

He grins, glad to hear it. The jus gras is such an important component, if he’s nailed it, his chances at staying safe today are greatly improved.

-

Gabriel bounces a little, aiming for better vantage as Becky checks her pea custards. “Mine aren’t quite set yet,” she remarks. “Five more minutes I think.”

Garth’s look a little grainy still, from the glimpse Gabriel gets of them. But Uriel’s look fantastic; he deems them cooked enough and leaves them out.

“Puree time.” Becky tips some more peas into the blender. “Then what we’re going to do is pass it through a sieve.” She waves a pastry scraper up at the gantry. “Hey Chuck, bring back memories?”

“Yes,” Chuck moans miserably, draping himself dramatically against the railing.

Becky grins wickedly at him. “All those terrible fish mousses?”

_“Ugh!”_ Chuck drops his forehead down. “Why must you remind me?”

Gabriel snickers, pats the man sympathetically on the shoulder.

-

“Garth’s caught up,” Benny notes proudly. Hopefully he can finish the rest of the cook without any other troubles.

Becky takes her chicken out of the oven. “Now if it’s a _touch_ pink, that’s okay, because it’s going back into the pan, to crisp up the skin.” She takes her knife, removes both off the chicken breasts. “We’re going to pick the best one at the end.” She trims them up then puts them into the pan.

Aaron’s chicken breasts are slightly pink too, as are Garth’s. But while Becky flips her chicken pieces over, Aaron doesn’t seem to notice. Garth pulls his off the same time as Becky, despite having gotten his on after hers.

Benny can’t tell whether either of their chicken is cooked through or not.

-

“Home stretch now. About to start plating,” Becky announces. “This is where everything comes together.”

He’s stressed, he’s so very stressed. Becky starts rattling off all the elements they’ve made, and there’s so many. Garth can hardly believe he’s done them all. He _hopes_ he’s done them all!

“Take your best breast, carve two pieces out.” Garth watches her, gauging the thickness of her slices and mimicking the cuts. Uriel, beside him, seems perfectly collected and controlled. He can barely keep his knife steady.

Becky sets her empty plate on the bench. She starts with a dollop of the puree, smearing it across the plate. She arranges her chicken pieces, then picks out her two best fondant potatoes. She scatters some warm peas around the plate.

“Take your firmest custard. You only need enough for a single quenelle.”

“It’s too runny,” Garth bemoans, frantically trying to get a decent spoonful out of the first custard. It’s supposed to have a consistency similar to ice-cream, but his is far too soft to hold its shape. One of his custards is _almost_ set. The scoop he manages is still terrible, but it’ll have to do.

Becky decorates the dish with fennel fronds and herbs, then slides the plate along towards the empty space at the end of her bench. “The dish is almost ready to go over the pass,” she warns. “This is your last chance to adjust your sauce.”

Garth frantically tastes his sauce as Becky starts passing hers, pouring it from her small pot into a serving jug. Small mercies, it tastes okay. The gentle clunk of Becky’s jug as it’s placed on the bench sounds deafening.

“Service!” Becky calls loudly. “You have ten seconds.” The gantry joins her in counting them down. Garth fills his serving jug with sauce, then hastily clears away the spillage down the side. He sets the jug beside his plate with a second to spare. The gantry erupts into applause.

Garth staggers back from his bench, takes a moment to breath. He turns towards Uriel and Aaron, who look as relieved to be done as he feels.

Aaron pulls him into a hug. “How’d you go?”

Garth blows out a long noisy breath. “We’ll see, I guess. Wow.” Aaron’s plating looks so elegant compared to his.

“Feeling good,” Uriel replies, when Aaron asks him the same.

Becky approaches the three of them. “Well done guys, really good work, all of you.”

-

The three judges retire to the tasting room. Chuck admires Becky’s handiwork. “Couldn’t have plated it any better myself. It’s fantastic, Bex.”

“This is the sort of thing MasterChef is meant to encourage,” Kali agrees. “Taking a simple idea – chicken, peas, and potatoes – and adding a little sophistication to it, in a way any home cook can.” With a wicked grin, she adds, “and I enjoyed the show too.”

Becky laughs at this. “Shall we taste then?” She looks expectantly at Chuck, who begins portioning the dish into thirds, distributing the food amongst their three empty plates.

“I never get tired of tasting your cooking,” Chuck declares when his plate’s empty again. He licks both sides of his spoon clean.

“Aw, you flatter me,” Becky jokes, but she’s pleased.

Kali goes into a further breakdown of the praise, listing the defining elements: moist chicken; smooth custard; the complexity of the sauce. “Now we’ve seen what the standard is, let’s start getting our contestants in.”

-

Uriel sets his dish down in front of the judges, then retreats to the chair set across from their table. Becky asks him how he found the challenge. “To cook alongside you was an incredible experience. And I’m proud of myself, for what I achieved.” He’d worked so hard, got every element completed. “I’m quietly confident.”

“It looks excellent,” Chuck acknowledges, examining the plate. Uriel’s particularly pleased with the amount of caramelisation on his chicken. “And now it comes down to the flavours.”

“Thank you, Uriel,” Kali dismisses him. “We’ll taste now.”

-

“I had a lot of fun,” Garth tells the judges. Chuckles a little. “Despite some small problems.”

Chuck offers him a smile. “Are you worried?”

He nods. “There are some flaws, I know. The custard is wrong.” He’s also worried about how his potatoes are cooked. He’d forgotten to check them. “But, uh, I’m hoping the rest is okay.” He clears his throat. It’s awful to think he could be leaving already.

“Best of luck to you,” Becky tells him.

Garth nods again and leaves the tasting room, heading back down the corridor to what’s colloquially known amongst contestants as the ‘nervous nook.’ Uriel and Aaron look up when he resumes his seat on the couch opposite them, but they say nothing.

-

“Did you enjoy the cook?” Kali asks Aaron.

“Absolutely. It was a bit of a rollercoaster,” he admits. “I was worried in the beginning, but once I started to make sense of it all, yeah, it was really enjoyable.”

Becky admires the green aesthetic of his dish, turning the plate slightly. “The colour of your pea puree is fantastic, Aaron.” It’s definitely the best looking of the three dishes.

He flushes, pleased and thanks her. “I hope it’s enough. I want to learn more; I want to experience a proper service.”

After Aaron’s left, Chuck starts to portion the dish into their servings. Then he pauses. “Is this undercooked?” Kali gives a concerned hum, leaning in to see. “Looks borderline.”

“Give it to me,” Becky declares. She’ll know.

-

The three cooks file back into the tasting room and sit in the chairs opposite the judge’s table.

“We wanted to challenge you all today,” Chuck relays. “And we did. But none of you gave up, and that’s what we really found most impressive.” Becky nods in agreement. The three contestants brace themselves for their feedback, and the results.

“Uriel,” Kali begins. “Your chicken was perfectly cooked. Your custard was light, and your fondants were tasty. We especially loved the flavour in your sauce. So much so, we were scraping it off the plate.” She smiles at him. “And for that reason, Uriel, you’re safe.”

Uriel lets out a heavily relieved sigh, leaning back into his chair.

Chuck speaks up next. “Garth. You also had good flavour in your sauce. But two out of three of your fondants were crunchy, and your custard was curdled.”

Garth grips his hands together tightly in his lap.

“Aaron,” Becky says. “Your potatoes were soft and buttery. Your chicken sauce was glossy, and the skin was crisp and golden. But the chicken itself? The bottom of the breast, right against the bone, wasn’t cooked through.” She sighs. “And in the MasterChef kitchen, undercooked chicken always sends you home. I’m sorry, Aaron.”

Aaron swallows, shakes his head. “It’s all right. I’m sorry.”

“We were devastated for you,” Chuck tells him, which earns him murmured thanks. “You’ve only been with us for a short time, but we’ve learnt a lot about who you are and how you cook. The artichokes from your audition dish, for instance. Not something we’re going to forget about anytime soon.”

“I…” Aaron clears his throat, starts again. “I’ve had such a great time. It’s disappointing to be the first to go, obviously, but I’m really pleased to have even gotten this far.”

Becky leans forward. “If you do want more experience, the best thing to do is go and work in an actual kitchen. And good luck out there, Aaron.”

“It’s time for you to say your goodbyes,” Kali concludes.

Aaron gets to his feet; Garth immediately hugs him. “Good luck, man. You’ll be brilliant, I know it.”

“You too.” Aaron exchanges well wishes and a handshake with Uriel too, and then each of the judges.

“It was really unexpected,” Becky tells him, as she shakes his hand. “But get out there, work hard, and make your food dream happen.”

“I will,” he promises her.

-

Ash picks idly at the loose thread on the hem of his shirt. He shifts his weight to lean more comfortably against the wall of the lounge alcove – so cleverly named because it’s an alcove, full of lounges; located between the nervous nook and the main floorspace of the MasterChef kitchen. He and the other contestants are quiet as they wait to see which of their fellows will emerge first, heralding their elimination.

“Ah, damn,” Crowley sighs at the sight of Aaron. Ash sighs too. He’d been fond of his roommate. He follows in Crowley’s wake as they all move forward to bid Aaron farewell. After plenty of hugs and handshakes all round, Aaron untangles himself from the group and heads for the main doors.

Aaron throws one last wave over his shoulder at them all as he exits the MasterChef kitchen, stepping out into the night.

-

*

_[Aaron is currently completing work experience in Germany with the Judah Initiative. His debut cookbook, in memory of his grandfather, is now available from retail publishers.]_

*

_Next time on MasterChef SPN:_

Dean berates himself under his breath. How could he have forgotten to put his oven on? Worry begins to creep up on him, faster than the temperature’s climbing.

“Strategy will compensate for talent; but talent won’t compensate for strategy.”

Benny taps his spoon for emphasis. “Red wine, _chère._ ” Pamela laughs. Clearly, they’re on the same page.

With a sinking feeling, he realises he hasn’t drained off the fat yet. The sauce has a milky sheen to it – he needs to skim it off, now.

She grabs the salt grinder, to season her potatoes. Twists. And rock salt goes everywhere. A horrified gasp is punched out of her.

*

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -
> 
> The quote “shoot for the moon; even if you miss, you’ll land amongst the stars” has been attributed to Norman Vincent Peale.
> 
> -


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